


Ironborn

by Trawler



Category: Doctor Strange (Animated Movie), Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Iron Man (Movies), IronStrange - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Cloak of Levitation, Crossover, Dragons, Friends to Lovers, Gratuitous Use Of Shouts, IronStrange, M/M, Marvel - Freeform, No Really Quite A Lot Of Dragons, SHIELD, Skyrim - Freeform, Snark, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:46:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 42
Words: 126,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25712293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trawler/pseuds/Trawler
Summary: Tony Stark and Stephen Strange are attending the sentencing of a terrorist leader when the courthouse is attacked by Life Model Decoys. During the attack, Tony’s suit is disabled and he’s rendered helpless. Only timely intervention from a monster saves his life.But the monster is a dragon: - Alduin, the World-Eater, Destroyer of Worlds. And he has come to Earth to find the Dragonborn… and, eventually, kill him.Tony doesn’t react well to learning that he’s the Dragonborn. His attitude to magic is negative at best, thanks to Wanda’s earlier manipulations, but over the last two years he’s developed a spiky friendship with Stephen Strange. The contradiction is not lost on him.But after Tony kills his first dragon during an attack on a small town – and absorbs his soul – he has to cope with irrefutable proof of what he has become… and deal with his attraction to Stephen. Can he juggle the two extremes? Can he come to terms with his new identity, with his new feelings, or will he ruin their friendship beyond repair?Will he defeat Alduin – or will the World-Eater take Earth as his own?
Relationships: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Comments: 17
Kudos: 45





	1. 1

_The street was destroyed. Masonry, broken lamp posts and wrecked cars turned the asphalt into a waste ground. There was a reason they called Thanos the Mad Titan; he destroyed everything he touched. He was touching my world. He was touching New York._

_He was touching people I cared about._

_I watched, helpless to move, helpless to act, as his henchmen crushed Bruce into an unrecognisable red-green pulp smeared across the block. Stephen Strange was pinned to the wall by an alien, struggling as the life was choked out of him. The only thing left of Wong was a smoking crater. Peter’s broken body tumbled from an apartment block, hitting the ground with a thump. Pepper –_

No.

_Pepper was –_

No. It hurt too much. Even asleep, it still hurt too much.

_Pepper was burning, hit by Thanos’s energy blast. I’d told her not to come, begged and begged, but she’d been determined to talk me out of getting involved and that conversation lasted right up until the attack. She was screaming –_

I snapped awake, breathing hard. Sticky with sweat. My body was rigid and tense, pulse racing as it prepared for fight or flight. My teeth ground against each other and my jaw ached. My throat was raw. Had I screamed? Again?

I filtered through the images in my head and tried to find the reality. Of the deaths I’d seen in my nightmare, Pepper’s was the only one that had been real. The ‘only’ death? Jesus. Even _thinking_ that made me cringe. Losing her had ripped my world apart.

Two years had passed since the Second Invasion of New York, and I’d kind of… checked out for a while. I had little conscious memory of anything after Pepper died; when I’d come back to myself I’d been standing over Thanos’s smoking, broken corpse, his stupid fucking Infinity Gauntlet crushed in both hands. 

We’d taken four Stones from the ruined Gauntlet. We’d burned Thanos’s body, burned it till it was nothing but ashes, and then we’d scattered the Stones through the Multiverse. They couldn’t be destroyed. But they could be hidden. 

Stephen kept the Time Stone, the Eye of Agamotto. He’d proven he could keep it safe. Vision… well, the Mind Stone had given him life and continued to keep him alive. Whatever my personal feelings were for the guy, he came across as a hell of a lot more human than a lot of people I’d met. I couldn’t – wouldn’t – take that away from him. 

On a personal level, I had a whole host of injuries that kept me off my feet for four months. The physical damage healed. The damage caused by Pepper’s death… it had taken months to learn how to live in a world without her. Everything I’d done, everything I’d been, was for her. I had to learn how to be me again. 

I couldn’t do it. The man who’d came out the other side of those dark days wasn’t the same as the man who’d taken his fiancé for a morning run. I carried on being Iron Man; I re-joined the Avengers; I found someone new to run my company. But the spark – the joy – even the drive, some days – was gone. I worked until I dropped, or I didn’t work at all. There was no in-between.

On a global level, the fallout from the invasion was immense. The Sokovia Accords were ripped up and redrawn. The Avengers needed the freedom, the scope, to do what needed to be done, without fear of reprisals. But that didn’t mean we shouldn’t be accountable, and the nightmares I lived with on a weekly basis were a constant reminder of that fact. We devised a system of self-regulation, and were granted the authority to act swiftly in times of need. 

There’d been arguments. Days of wrangling from politicians. It was darkly ironic; we saved the world, and the world hated us for it.

In the end, all it had taken was Steve Rogers pointing out – in that quiet, earnest way he had – that if we hadn’t acted immediately it wouldn’t just have been New York that got levelled. It would have been the whole state. Or the whole country. Or, as I had added, the whole fucking planet. (Language, Tony.) Throwing my weight behind his position helped. Together, we’d wrangled out a system that worked, and in doing so we’d brought the Avengers closer together.

And today? I was still Iron Man. And Iron Man had to go to court.

~~&~~

I pushed the blanket aside and staggered out of bed. F.R.I.D.A.Y raised the lights to something my damp eyes could cope with. I looked around the room, blinking, trying to get my back to straighten out. For the first time since I’d moved here, I realised it looked like a hotel room; despite the space and the king-sized bed, despite the opulence and the walk-in wardrobe, there was no personality. Nothing to show that it belonged to me. 

The carpet was beige. The walls were beige. Hell, even the linen was a kind of dark-gold beige I had no memory of choosing. I struggled out of my boxer-briefs and dumped them in the laundry hamper. In those few moments before I was limber enough to stagger into the bathroom, I wondered if I’d turned into a beige man. If I’d lost my personality along with Pepper.

Even the goddamned bathroom looked like I’d lifted it from a hotel. White floor. White tiles. Chrome everything. Maybe it was time to think about redecorating, putting my own stamp on the place instead of leaving it to an interior designer. I just had to figure out what my own stamp _was._ Who the fuck was Tony Stark, anyway?

Right now, he was tired, stiff, and sticky with sweat. I shuffled into the walk-in shower. I started out most days this way. It was great for washing away the sweat and, for a while, the nightmares. But it never stopped them coming back.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y?” I croaked.

“Yes, boss?”

I floundered for something to say. Maybe I’d spoken just to hear a voice other than my own. I honestly didn’t know. I rubbed both hands over my face, trying to wake up. Wishing my tense muscles would relax.

“Your alarm is due to go off in twelve minutes and thirty four seconds,” she said, perhaps interpreting my silence as an indication I needed to be reminded of my schedule. 

I stripped off and stepped in the shower. “Cancel it. And gimme hot water.”

“‘Hot’ is not a specific setting.” She could be a real old woman sometimes. “Which of your previously defined programs would you prefer?”

“Nightmare mode.” 

Water erupted from the shower head, splashing my torso. It wasn’t just hot, it was almost scalding; I hissed and jumped back, easing myself into the flow a little at a time. 

My skin turned pink. That was OK. I stood under the stream and closed my eyes.

“It’s the Montgomery sentencing today,” F.R.I.D.A.Y announced.

There were so many reasons I should go to that _that_ shit-show. But…

“Not going,” I said.

“Then I’m obliged to activate the Strange Protocol.”

I leaned my forehead against the tiles. “Don’t you dare.”

“I’m doing it now.”

“Lady, you don’t play fair.” Stephen was the last person I wanted to see right now. He was also the only person I wanted to see. The contradiction was confusing, and I just didn’t have the energy for it.

“You programmed me that way.” There was reproach in her voice. Getting schooled by an AI? Great. Just what I needed to start the day. 

~~&~~

I grabbed clothes – shorts, T-shirt, whatever – and padded down to the kitchen. There was space in the Avengers compound for… God, I could barely even keep up with how many people we had here now. More than there had been. Less than there should be. I’d withdrawn from most of them, feeling like a passenger in my own life; I’d seen what was happening, seen what I was doing, but hadn’t been able to alter my course. Hadn’t cared enough to take control. Even Rhodey, my best guy for years, had pretty much given up on me. I couldn’t blame him for that. He had his own life to lead.

But right now, the compound was empty except for little old me. Out on missions, visiting family. Hell, some of them could be on vacation for all I knew. I kind of liked the solitude. Kind of hated it, too.

I couldn’t cook for shit. I’d tinkered with chef bots, but cooking was a fine art and the bots just kept burning things. When I was alone (which happened more and more these days) I settled for things I could throw in the microwave. 

On the face of it, the big kitchen was a variation on the beige bedroom – dark grey cupboards, lighter grey marble counter tops flecked with black and pink, and as many gadgets as I could cram in. Just because I couldn’t cook didn’t mean I couldn’t improve the equipment. 

But when you looked closer, it became apparent that the other Avengers had left their marks everywhere. Nat had a snack drawer stuffed with chocolate, but she was incapable of throwing the wrappers away, and one always got caught between the drawer and counter top. Steve was a massive neat freak and had a collection of tea towels hanging from one of the walls, each the exact same distance apart. We had jars for coffee and tea, but Clint liked to keep an open box of tea bags shoved in the corner by the kettle. 

A big stone sink took up half the island in the middle of the kitchen. There was always a little flowering plant next to the faucets. I had no idea who it belonged to, but it had been there for over a year now, and it gave us these real pretty pink flowers. Plenty of personal touches… but none of them mine.

The kitchen opened seamlessly into a communal dining area with a massive glass table. Further out, we’d grouped a bunch of navy blue sofas around a glass drinks bar in the lounge area. Business-bland. Even though people lived here – even though _I_ lived here – it was just a place we stayed. It wasn’t a home.

I stared around the cold dining area. Shuffled into the kitchen, scrubbing a hand down my face. The Pop Tart was king but this morning I couldn’t even face that. I threw milk and cereal into a bowl and called it good.

As I dragged myself over to the huge dining table, bowl in one hand, spoon shoved carelessly into my mouth, a shower of orange sparks appeared out of nowhere and blossomed into a portal.

“Was hoping you’d joked about calling him!” I called to F.R.I.D.A.Y. She declined to answer, but her silence was pointed.

Stephen strode through the portal. It closed behind him. He’d left the blue tunic and scarlet Cloak of Levitation behind, opting for an outfit I privately called Formal Wizard – perfectly tailored black suit and tie over a white shirt. He fiddled with the cuffs as he strode toward the table. With bands of grey at his temples, a shaped and defined beard, he looked sharp and dangerous. 

Hell, he _was_ sharp and dangerous.

“Ever heard of using the front door?” I growled around a mouthful of cereal.

“I prefer to take the door with me wherever I go.” His eyes flicked over me, taking in my appearance before going over the empty room. “Where is everybody?”

“Away,” I said with a shrug. “Missions. Dunno, not really keeping track.” I didn’t go out so much these days. I did my duty as Iron Man, but everything else… the parties, the fast cars, the charity balls… were the actions of a different man.

Stephen’s sharp eyes settled on me. “Get dressed,” he said. “You don’t want to miss the Montgomery sentencing.”

Sometimes he made me feel like a kid. I resented the hell out of him for that. But unlike everyone else, he didn’t act as if I was made of glass, as if I might shatter at any moment. And for that, I respected him.

“I don’t give a shit about the sentencing.” I did – for so very many reasons – but even thinking about Montgomery made me tired and angry.

“You should do. You wouldn’t shut up about how hard that slippery little weasel was to catch.”

That made me smile, and finally I felt the tension in my body begin to ease. There was a reason the Strange Protocol existed – he had a way of cutting through my bullshit. He didn’t pander to my mood swings. He just… I guess he just treated me as if I hadn’t changed. We hadn’t known each other before the invasion, not on a personal level, and we weren’t exactly friends now –

What the hell was I saying? Of _course_ we were friends. The Protocol wouldn’t exist if we weren’t. But I was still trying to work out exactly how our friendship worked. We were super rude to each other, and some days it seemed as if he barely tolerated my presence. But when F.R.I.D.A.Y called? He came. 

It was a privilege. One I – and by extension, F.R.I.D.AY – was extremely careful not to abuse. Over the last two years of our friendship, she’d invoked the Protocol no more than a handful of times, and only ever on occasions when I was teetering on the edge of something she couldn’t talk me away from. I respected him even more for that.

What got me the most was that it wasn’t even a conscious plan he or I had chosen to make. F.R.I.D.A.Y was the one who’d given it a name. I still recalled the first time it had happened – I hadn’t slept for a week, hadn’t even left the lab for three days. Physically, mentally, I’d been a mess. The other Avengers had been away on missions, had been for a while, so I’d been left alone with the rat’s nest inside my head.

F.R.I.D.A.Y called Stephen. She told me she’d done it, told me a couple of times, I think, but I’d been pretty squirrelly by that point. I hadn’t really taken in what she’d said.

When he arrived he’d dumped me in the shower. Harangued me into changing clothes. Stood glaring at me until I’d eaten something. I’d pretty much collapsed into bed after that point.

Later, when I’d come back to myself enough to realise what had happened, I’d been ashamed. Embarrassed. No one should have to put up with seeing me like that; hell, _I_ shouldn’t have let myself get into that state. But thinking something, and doing it, where two very different things. 

The next time he came to visit he didn’t talk about it. Neither did I.

F.R.I.D.A.Y called him again a couple months later. Same deal. No condemnation from him, just his presence, and his help. It wasn’t something we ever talked about. Much like our friendship, it just happened. 

It had taken a while, but eventually I’d been forced to acknowledge to myself that I was attracted to him. That maybe – just maybe – I was ready to move on from Pepper. Stephen had shown that he cared about me. Genuinely cared, however abrupt he’d been about it. That meant a lot.

But despite acknowledging how I felt, I could never act on that attraction. Never let on how I felt. As far as I knew he was completely straight. Me? Not so much. I valued our spiky friendship too much to jeopardise it by making any kind of dumb play for him. 

“I don’t need to be there,” I said, but I knew I was going to go. And his sudden triumphant smirk told me he knew, too. Bastard. 

“What, and miss the opportunity to gloat?” He shook his head. “Go put some pants on, for God’s sake.”

I rolled my eyes. “ _Fine._ But get some coffee going, or I’m gonna throw a tantrum.”


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Stephen exchange banter at the sentencing, but after Montgomery is led to the dock, a number of LMDs – Life Model Decoys, disguised as regular people – attack.

“I hate these things,” I said later, shifting on the hard wooden bench. “I caught the guy, that’s all. No reason for me to be here.” 

The courtroom was large and imposing. Heavy wooden panelling, stone walls, the judge perched up on his eerie. Lawyers from both sides reminded me of vultures, thin and austere, waiting to swoop down on whatever carcase they could find. Weeks of hearing evidence, weeks of seeing the ‘defendant’ – whatever asshole criminal I’d dragged in – trying to get away with murder. Weeks of listening to bullshit lies. 

The reason I hated trials was because, even though I’d done the hard part, there were no guarantees anyone I caught would get what they deserved. I’d given my sweat and blood to get them here. Sometimes it felt as if I’d given my sanity. And I had no way of knowing if that would pay off.

But I did it anyway. Time and again. Because the idea of _not_ doing it was inconceivable.

“We’ve covered this already,” Stephen sighed. He was good at sighing, did it all the time when I was around. Hard not to take is personally. And yet, he kept coming back. “Gloating rights. Your presence is required, as a courtesy if nothing else.”

“Yeah, not really big on the whole ‘courtesy’ thing.” I slumped lower, tugging at the knees of my slacks so the material didn’t pinch my balls. I’d gone for a pale grey suit as a direct contrast to Stephen’s black.

“We had noticed.” 

“Still don’t get why you felt you had to tag along,” I grumbled.

“What, I’m not allowed to share in the gloating now?”

“Woah, whoah, this is _my_ show. You don’t get to gloat.”

Another sigh. “Richard Montgomery and his group didn’t just target Avengers. He took a swipe at the Sanctum, too.”

I turned to give him a direct look. “You kept that one quiet.”

“Sorcerers don’t like to broadcast their business.” His voice was dry. “Unlike genius billionaire playboy philanthropists.” 

“Ouch. Strike off the playboy part,” I said, stung into defending myself before I actually thought about what I was saying.

He returned my look with an inscrutable one of his own, then nodded.

“Sorry.”

My eyes widened slightly. I think this was the first time he’d ever apologised to me. It was an acknowledgement that he knew my lifestyle had changed, my habits had changed, and I wasn’t the same person he’d seen on TV and read about in newspapers. I wasn’t even the same person he’d fought beside during the Second Battle of New York.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. But I thought it was something good. 

A swelling murmur of voices interrupted our bickering. I looked across the room as Richard Montgomery – fetching in an orange prison jumpsuit, black hair cropped brutally short, wrists and ankles cuffed – shuffled into the defendant’s box. He was an arrogant bastard; his incarceration hadn’t lessened that arrogance a single jot. 

“Look at that smug prick,” I muttered as he smirked at me. I smirked right back. He was in chains, whereas I could just stroll out and get a cheeseburger. “What has he even got to be smug _about?_ ”

“He’s just trying to get under your skin.”

“It’s not working.”

Stephen gave me a sideways look. “How many times did you have to catch this guy? How many times did he escape?”

“OK, so maybe he did get under my skin,” I growled. “Just a little.”

Richard Montgomery was the asshole head of a terrorist group called Pure Human, a bunch of anti-alien, anti-superhero fanatics who thought it was acceptable to blow up a building full of innocent people if there was a chance to kill a single Avenger. He was responsible for the murder of Bruce Banner, the Hulk, our own personal Jolly Green Giant. Someone we’d thought was virtually indestructible. He’d taken advantage of our complacency. 

When Bruce came back to Earth, he’d had a few performance issues. Couldn’t get the Big Guy to come out. That meant he’d been stuck in his human shape, and _that_ meant he was vulnerable. 

Montgomery had him shot in the street. 

His body had been delivered to the Compound and dumped outside the gate. They’d treated him like fucking garbage. 

After that, we’d pulled out all the stops to take Pure Human apart. The Avengers, S.H.I.E.L.D, the government agencies of other countries; we all worked together to pull them down cell by cell until we found Montgomery.

Nick Fury had taken the bigger picture. People didn’t like to be reminded their intergalactic defence was vulnerable, and we had to hit back hard or risk losing what little support we’d managed to gain from the public. The rest of us? We saw the little picture, the one where our friend had been murdered, and we were out for blood.

That had been one of my bad times. In the end F.R.I.D.A.Y had pulled rank and invoked the Protocol. I’d appreciated Stephen’s presence through those hectic few weeks, though I hadn’t really understood the importance of it until after the dust had settled.

Pure Human were vicious. They were dedicated. It was ugly, seeing the way they just _hated,_ without bothering to understand or reason. 

That was one of the reasons why security around the courthouse was so tight. The first time I’d caught Montgomery, his compadres had broken him out inside twenty-four hours. The second time he’d gone straight into a supermax prison upstate. We stopped two break-out attempts and used the opportunity to round up a whole bunch more of his henchmen. 

I wasn’t naive enough to believe we’d caught them all – maybe not even all of his inner circle – and that made me nervous. Guys like him, they had plans on top of plans hiding underneath other plans.

What made me even more anxious was that Montgomery came from a tech background. There were a couple of old families in the States who ran the tech game (and by ‘old’ I meant more than just first-gen geniuses like Bill Gates) and Montgomery belonged to one of them. His grandpappy, hell, his _great-_ grandpappy, had been raising steam way back in the day. In the whole ‘my tech lineage is older than yours’ game, the Starks were kind of in the middle. And that bugged me. Professionally… personally… I loathed him.

The trial had taken a couple weeks. There was a lot of evidence to get through. The conviction hadn’t been a foregone conclusion – there was as much sympathy for Pure Human as there was anger – so it had been a relief, a genuine relief, when we got a solid _guilty._

Yesterday, I’d wanted to go to the sentencing. Then the nightmare hit. Part of me still wanted to crawl back into bed, cocoon myself in the blanket with a bottle of whisky, and forget the outside world existed. I’d spent months after Pepper’s death doing just that. I hadn’t liked the person I’d been back then, and it was a struggle every day not to turn into him again. 

I almost – _almost_ – had enough faith to believe Montgomery would never escape. But I was pragmatic enough to realise this was one jack I’d be having to shove back in the box for years to come. If we couldn’t keep Avengers in the Raft from escaping, then we needed to up our game.

“You’re fidgeting,” Stephen said.

“I’m not fidgeting.”

“I’m sitting right here and I’m telling you you’re fidgeting.”

“And I’m telling you I’m not.” I didn’t take my gaze off Montgomery. 

“Will you relax already?” Stephen sounded testy. “You’ve stopped him before. He won’t try anything now.”

I finally wrenched my eyes away from Montgomery, turning to glare at Stephen.

“You’ve never fought criminals before,” I said through gritted teeth. “Terrorists like _this_ punk. They’re not fighting to put their so-called ‘political message’ across,” and I made air-quotes, “they’re only interested in grabbing power. People like him, they get a _lot_ of power.”

He arched one finely-shaped eyebrow. “You’re seriously talking to me about power?” He lifted a single trembling hand, fingers spread. Sparks of orange energy flickered between his fingertips. This close, the long, thick scars along the length of each digit were clearly visible. 

“Come on –”

“The kind of enemies _I_ fight,” he ploughed on, “are _clearly_ nothing like yours.” Sarcasm dripped from every word. “Eldritch gods, demons from hell-dimensions, rogue sorcerers all bent on world domination. Nope, no fiendish power-grabbing there.”

“Dude, you might not want to flash the goods in a courthouse.” I waggled my eyebrows. “Guards are twitchy enough as it is.”

He rolled his eyes, then closed his hand into a fist. The sparks vanished.

I’d just about grown accustomed to him using magic around me. Portals were pretty damned useful. He knew about my past – that Wanda Maximoff had got inside my head and used my own fears against me – and although he didn’t make a big deal about it, I was pretty sure he toned things down around me. We hadn’t worked together since New York, so it was easy to forget (or at least to ignore) the fact that he was the Sorcerer Supreme, the most powerful wizard in the galaxy. I just… compartmentalised.

The aftermath of his injuries, now, that was something he didn’t tone down. Maybe he couldn’t. I knew the way his hands trembled was something he fought to conceal around most people, but not around me. That was important. Sometimes it made me feel guilty about my hang-ups over magic, but that was my problem, not his. 

“Alright,” I conceded, leaning back in the seat and crossing my arms. “Maybe my bad guys aren’t so different from yours. Just, you know, minus the whole tentacle thing.”

“You need to get a better class of enemy.” His voice was dry again, hints of warmth creeping through. “Let me tell you, tentacles are way more fun.”

“I’d _love_ to see your PornHub favourites list,” I snickered. “I’d say you need to get out more, but…”

“I step outside my own dimension on a regular basis. Is that ‘out’ enough for you?”

“Hey, what happens in other dimensions stays there, right?”

“You have no idea.” 

I wondered about that. He was a good-looking guy – tall, slender, with an aesthetically-long face – and I recalled reading somewhere that he’d dated a fellow surgeon. But he’d been out of the public eye years longer than me. I had no idea whether the role of Sorcerer Supreme allowed for any kind of romantic entanglement. 

Dammit, I had to stop thinking about him like that. He was my friend.

“These guys are taking their time coming back with the sentencing,” I said, dragging my gaze away before he could spot something I didn’t want him to see. 

“I would say ‘have patience’,” Stephen drawled. “But you have the patience levels of a toddler, and I’m sure that’s never going to change.”

I let the jibe go, running my eyes over the faces of people who’d come to watch. Members of the public… journalists... relatives of the people Montgomery and his Pure Human group had murdered. So when a blonde woman in a neat navy skirt-suit stood up, I saw. When she touched something behind her ear, I saw.

When her eyes went white – just two balls of pure white floating in her skull – I saw.

When she blew up? I saw that, too.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Montgomery uses the chaos to escape. Tony fights the two LMDs but finds himself suddenly and catastrophically vulnerable. Sudden intervention from a monster saves his live, but presents a brand new set of problems: - he now has to fight a dragon. And this dragon has access to magic.

The woman was enveloped by an incandescent flare of light. It flickered rapidly from red to orange to white, so bright I was squinting before any of my other senses reacted. It was only then that sound came: - an enormous roar, bludgeoning my ears, shutting them down in self-defence. 

Instinct made me duck and roll out of my seat, grabbing Stephen as I moved. He threw an orange energy shield over both of us.

I smacked the side of my head a couple times, ears ringing, shaking away the disorientation. The courtroom had filled with smoke. People were screaming, running, dim shapes flitting through the cloudy air. Flames raced across the wall and floor.

“Get these people out!” I coughed, hand over my mouth as I got up. Debris clattered from the ceiling, chunks of masonry and splintered wood; I dodged one and took a glancing blow on the shoulder from another. “Where’s Montgomery?”

“I don’t see him!” Stephen’s arm moved. The smoke around us began to thin, and I realised he’d cast some kind of spell. “I’ll clear the building. Go find that asshole.”

I slapped his shoulder, gripped it, squeezed. He nodded and we pulled away. He dashed off into the smoke while I plunged toward where I’d last seen Montgomery. 

I hit the ARC reactor and suited up, the faint tickle of nanites surrounding my body a familiar and welcome sensation. As it closed over my head, the shrieks were cut off, external noises dampened down to something my fragile ears could handle. 

“Suit’s at optimum levels,” F.R.I.D.A.Y said, soft Irish voice lilting. 

“Most couples go with a ‘high, honey, how are you’,” I said, taking a second to study the data flickering across the suit’s HUD. “But no, not us. Where’s Montgomery?”

The targeting system glowed into life, moving at random until it got a lock.

“Biodata matches,” she said. “He’s moving.”

Of course he was, the prick. “You say the sweetest things.”

F.R.I.D.A.Y chuckled. I tuned her out and ran after my quarry, dodging more falling masonry as I crossed the courtroom floor. I leapt over smashed benches, trusting the suit’s guidance system to get me through the billowing smoke.

“Incoming, boss!”

The warning came a second too late. Something slammed into my right side with the force of a Mack truck, ramming me into a hard surface – wall, floor, there was so much smoke I honestly couldn’t tell – and started pounding the faceplate. I blasted it with the palm repulsors. It tumbled away.

“What the _hell_ is that?” I growled, rolling to my knees, lifting my head to look through the chaos.

“Analysis shows that these are Life Model Decoys. Their design is unlike any we have encountered so far.”

“Great. Just great.” I was shaking my head, still trying to clear the high-pitched whine in my ears, when F.R.I.D.A.Y gave me another last-second warning. This time I was prepared, and managed to shoot the incoming bogie on my left before it got close enough to grab me. I had two targets now. I had to take them both out, fast and hard.

“Scan the area!”

The smoke cleared long enough for me to get a good look at the LMD on the right. A muscled bald guy in a grey Armani suit. I gave him another blast from a palm-repulsor, turning to track the second LMD’s progress as he charged. A slim man in a black suit. He dodged the attack with unnatural speed.

Armani had recovered, though his charred suit had not. It smoked around him as he moved again. Distracted by the other LMD, I wasn’t able to react in time, and his flying tackle took me down. Slim Jim slammed onto the pile.

Stifling a groan between my teeth, I re-directed power to the suit’s arms and heaved, meaning to throw them off. 

Nothing happened.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, more power to the arms,” I growled, still heaving.

“Power flow is being impeded, boss. Attempting a work-around.”

“What the _fuck?_ ” The suit was designed to withstand all kinds of damage, bludgeoning, piercing, electrical. It was air-tight and pressurised. It would even withstand an EMP, though I’d been meaning to work some upgrades because there were new devices coming onto the market all the time –

Armani’s hand closed over the faceplate. With a grinding, tearing wrench, he ripped it away. Smoke-tainted air rushed into the suit. I coughed, deafened all over again by the noise. My head was pounding.

The repulsors weren’t working. I called the canons. No response. OK, nanite katana, no problem… except it didn’t execute. F.R.I.D.A.Y’s work-around hadn’t worked. I called up system after system, using back-up functions as the HUD was gone. Nothing. 

Panic ripped at my guts, hot and bright.

“Come on, F.R.I.D.A.Y!” I yelled. “Gimme something to _work_ with, here!”

Nothing. Shit. I called up my last program – deactivate the suit so I could worm free of these assholes and regroup – but instead of flowing back into the ARC reactor, the nanites just _dissolved._ The suit lost its shape and disintegrated around me.

Armani and Slim Jim didn’t move. They just kept bearing down, crushing me beneath their weight. I groaned, ribs constricted, struggling just to breathe; I couldn’t get my mind around the fact that the suit hadn’t just failed, it had _catastrophically_ failed, and any second now the LMDs were going to break my fucking chest.

I panicked, terror rising up in my throat. I was helpless, pinned down, all my tricks gone, about to get crushed or kidnapped or blown up or God knew what else – 

_No._ I snarled and heaved again, but it was like pushing against rocks. I refused to go out like this, refused to let myself be helpless again. This wasn’t Afghanistan, dammit, this was fucking _New York,_ and I was _not_ going to die on the floor!

A huge, bellowing roar made the wrecked courthouse shake. What fresh hell had Montgomery dragged up? Panicking, I punched at whatever piece of fake flesh was closest to me. Armani’s stupid arm. No good.

“Hey, Baldy,” I babbled, hoping to make him look at me. “Your mamma was a Mac and your daddy had a Windows 95 operating system!”

His head turned. His eyes – perfectly human, perfectly lifelike – were brown, soft and large, unusual in a face that looked as if it could crack rocks. Not that I cared. I rammed my fingers in those cow-eyes as hard as I could.

They sank in all the way to the third knuckle, covering my fingers with warm, synthetic goo. He reared back, pulling his face away from my hand, leaving my fingers coated with the ragged remnants of his ocular system. I cringed and tried to wriggle out from under him.

He collapsed back against me, hands closing around my throat. White ichor dripped down his cheeks. I stared up into his empty sockets, flailing at his arms, digging my nails into his skin. My mind focussed first on Pepper, before she faded, replaced by Peter Parker. As the edges of my vision faded to grey, Stephen’s face floated across my consciousness.

_I never got to tell him…_

The top of the courthouse ripped away.

Metal, masonry, wood and wiring peeled back like cardboard in a gale. A monstrous shape straight out of a nightmare loomed into the space; a vast, wedge-shaped head, black scales, massive curving horns. Enormous scarlet eyes. Teeth as long as my torso. 

I was convinced I was hallucinating – lack of oxygen doing crazy shit to my brain – right up until that huge maw gaped wide and closed over Armani’s shoulder and arm.

The monster-head reared back. Armani went with it, his hands ripped away from my throat. I barely felt the pain, distracted by the sight of a massive, sinuous neck. 

Slim Jim tried to keep me pinned but even stunned, even half-choked, I was able to roll out of his way. He grabbed my leg; I kicked him in the face. He dragged me back.

Evidently done with Armani ( _whatever_ it was he’d done with Armani) Toothy came back for more, head swinging with precise control as he plucked Slim Jim out of the debris by a leg. The LMD swung, kicking at the scaled nose, trying to free himself. 

Toothy reared back and gulped him down.

I thought I’d used up my stock of fear and horror for one day but no, no, turns out I was wrong. I scrabbled back, debris cutting into my hands and ripping my slacks. As I moved something tickled – 

God, oh my _God,_ the nanites were reforming, streaming back across my body –

“ _Yes!_ ” I yelled, fist-pumping the air. Nanites curled around my arm, my hand. The helmet covered my head and I closed my eyes; when I opened them a second later I was looking out through the faceplate, seeing lines of data scrolling over the HUD. I checked through system after system as it moved over the display, frantically assessing the suit for damage. 

My eyes were drawn to the monster’s, scarlet orbs narrowing as they looked at me. He opened his mouth and for a second – a single, terrifying second – I thought he was going to eat me.

“ _Dovahkiin._ ”

The word rolled out of his mouth, infused with so much force I felt it in my bones. The sound echoed in my chest. Reverberated through my body. It seemed to mean everything and nothing and oh _God,_ it felt good in ways I couldn’t even wrap my brain around.

The head reared back again, sinuous neck curling, before both vanished through the gaping void in the roof.

Footsteps crunching in the debris snapped my attention back. I rolled and turned, palm out, laser at the ready, already ramping up the power to hit another LMD – 

“It’s me!” Stephen’s voice whipped out as he covered himself with an energy shield.

Magic. Oh God. Whatever Toothy had just done, whatever he’d just done _to_ me, it was _magic,_ and I couldn’t let that happen again, couldn’t let someone get into my head like Wanda had done… 

“What’s happening to me?” I croaked, dialling back on the palm repulsor. “What just happened, I can’t –” I shook my head, hard, then slapped the side of the helmet. As if I could somehow knock some understanding into my aching brain. I slid the faceplate down, desperate for some normal contact I understood, even if was just meeting another pair of human eyes.

“What do you mean?” He lowered the shield, though he didn’t disable it. 

“That thing _spoke_ to me, you heard it, right?” He had to have heard it, the monster’s voice was fucking loud enough. “And I felt… God, I don’t even _know._ ”

“I heard it.” His intense, grey-eyed stare seemed to bore into mine. “But Tony, you _have to keep it together._ That thing’s still up there. We have to fight. Can you do that? Can you fight?”

I’d fight until I was bloody and broken. Seemed to be my default position. Whatever had just happened to me, I had to compartmentalise. And God knew I was good at that. I could _do_ this.

“Yeah,” I rasped, taking a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

“Alright then.”

He finally let his shield dissipate. For the first time I realised he’d pulled some mystic mojo and switched clothes; Formal Wizard was out and Battle Wizard was in: - the familiar blue tunic and slacks, way too many belts, and the scarlet Cloak of Levitation. The outfit was streaked with soot. A smear of blood crossed his face, starting below his left eye and moving down his cheek. As he crouched, the Cloak billowed around him, the edges swirling toward me. 

That was another thing I’d got used to. In my head, the Cloak was just an overgrown puppy, playful and protective of its master. I didn’t – maybe couldn’t – think of it as a magical device. Or… entity or… whatever. So I just patted the hem, scritched the cloth a little, and looked away.

“You alright?” I asked as I got up. Ow. My ribs hurt. My legs hurt. My goddamned hands hurt... but I was alive. The suit was working. I was still able to fight. Everything else – every little complicated thing running through my head – could wait. _Had_ to wait.

“I’m fine.” He dismissed my concern with a shake of his head. “Are you hurt? What were those things, robots?”

“I’m good.” _Stop thinking about what just happened. Stop. Stop it stop it stop it._ “They were LMDs, Life Model Decoys. Long story,” I added at the questioning lift of his eyebrows. “Ever seen anything like that monster before?”

He gave me a hard, assessing look. I returned it with a challenging one of my own. He was full of shit; so was I; we’d move on and deal with our problems later.

“Dragon. We have to go after him, unless you’d rather lounge around here and do push-ups.”

“Uh, you wanna run that past me again?” Asshole. 

“Dragon. _Drag-on._ Need me to spell it for you?”

“Hey, Toothy just saved my life!” And did something to me… _nope,_ not going there…

“Oh, my God.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve named him already.”

“Hello. Life saved here.” I jabbed my chest plate. _Compartmentalise…_

“He doesn’t belong in this dimension!”

“Ugh. Alright.” I tilted my head, first to the left, then to the right, stretching the muscles. Yup, even my muscles ached. “Meet you top side.”

I jumped, diverting power to the foot thrusters, glorying in the fact that the suit was working again. I’d consider the ramifications later – let myself fall _apart_ later – (if Toothy didn’t decide he wanted a side-order of Stark to go with his LMD main) but right now we had a job to do.

A flicker of red and blue at my eight o’clock was Stephen, the Cloak effortlessly allowing him to keep pace. That he used magic to fly was easy to assimilate, easy to get my head around; he just used a device to get him off the ground, and I didn’t think about it any more deeply than that. 

I found Toothy as soon as we emerged over the top of the courthouse. Mostly because, well, he was just too damned big to miss.

He certainly _looked_ like a dragon, perched on a skyscraper across the street. He was immense – only about half the size of, say, a Chitauri Leviathan, but still huge. Vast wings stretched wide, light filtering dimly through thin, leathery membranes; a cavernous body; long legs ending in vicious claws, each as long as a man’s body, digging into the skyscraper. The monster’s neck was at least a couple stories long, twined around the side of the building, the vast head aimed in our direction. Massive bony horns flared out from the back of his head. 

I flashed back to both the battles we’d fought in New York, an ugly kaleidoscope of images tumbling through my head. I felt the same out-of-control sense of panic I had back then. After a few slow, deep breaths, I was able to stamp it down; this guy was big, and ugly, but he wasn’t a Leviathan. _It’s not Thanos. Not Thanos. Not Tha –_

His jaws gaped opened in a titanic roar, the suit’s audio equipment struggling to dampen the noise to something my ears could accept without bleeding.

I wasn’t prepared for the surge of defiance that burned behind my ARC reactor. Something about that roar got under my skin. The challenge. The arrogance. I wanted… God, I don’t know, I wanted to see the fucking thing _burn._

_Not_ my _emotions. Not_ my _reactions._ Magic. _Oh God, it’s –_

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, gimme some music, will ya? Hard rock. High volume.”

The opening riffs of AC/DC’s _Thunderstruck_ thundered through the helmet. Yeah. That was about how I felt right now. I focussed on the music, using it to block out my thoughts.

Stephen swooped off to the left, leaving me to take the right-hand flank. The dragon’s huge head swung around. Fire exploded from his mouth, a huge, hungry fireball.

Stephen barrel-rolled out of the way. Flames splashed over the four-story brick building behind him.

“Shit,” I growled. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, water canons, I gotta put out this fire –”

“I’m on it,” Stephen interrupted. F.RI.D.A.Y automatically lowered the music so I could hear him. “Hit that thing with everything you’ve got!”

Trusting he’d take care of the blaze, get as many people out of the building as he could – hopefully like he’d done in the courthouse, we hadn’t even had time to debrief over that yet – I turned my full attention to the black dragon. 

“Palm repulsors on max, F.R.I.D.A.Y.” I held my hands up, aiming at the monster’s head. I checked the power levels were at full capacity in the suit’s HUD then gave him both barrels.

The dragon yowled, the enraged sound of a pissed off big cat, and swung that massive head to me. I stared into a pair of giant, rage-filled eyes that glowed with their own internal light.

Defiance wrapped around my heart. I growled and arrowed toward the monster, nothing in my head except the desire to see him dead on the ground, to wrench that monstrous head off his neck.

_“Boss!”_ F.R.I.D.AY was howling in my ears. I ignored her.

I was no more than twenty or thirty feet away from the dragon when it roared again. 

_“Fus-Ro-Dah!”_

The words smashed into me with the force of a wrecking ball. Pressure crushed my body even inside the suit, flinging me out of the dive and tossing me aside like a leaf in the wind.

“ _Ow – ow –_ ” I smacked into the side of a tower block, momentum driving me through the brick wall. I crashed through a couple desks, some chairs, then sent a water cooler flying. I skidded through the carpet. The suit rucked up fabric as I went, desperately trying to stop the ride. I managed to catch myself just as I nudged an aquarium almost as wide and high as the office. 

The tank rocked. Water slopped against the glass. 

“ _Ow…_ ”

“Suit integrity down to eighty-three per cent, boss.” She’d dropped the music completely, so I had an unimpeded audio stream of the suit’s warning alarms. “Maybe don’t do that again.”

“Preaching to the – _ow!_ – converted,” I groaned, standing with effort. The suit was padded six ways to Sunday, but if you hit something hard enough no amount of padding was going to give you complete protection. I was definitely going to feel this in the morning. Providing I actually lived that long, of course.

“Tony, it’s leaving.” Stephen’s voice in the suit’s communicator was terse. I’d never questioned how he was able to access the audio network; the first time it happened, during the second Battle of New York, I’d been too busy trying not to die to ask questions. These days I just assumed he’d done something fiddly with magic. It worked – it was useful – I didn’t need to know anything more. No need to think about magic being used in close proximity to my head.

“Not that I’m not glad, but any idea why? I couldn’t get close enough to touch him. Where’s he going?”

“He opened a portal. It was on a different plane, I had to astral project just to see it.” I couldn’t tell whether his growl said ‘I’m impressed as hell’ or ‘I’m pissed as hell’. Most likely, it was a combination of both. “Which means he has the ability to shift between planes as well as breathing fire.”

I cast an experienced eye around the office. People were getting to their feet, helping their colleagues stand, coughing against the brick dust my unexpected entry had kicked up. I executed a program that allowed me to see people’s injuries at a glance. Cuts and scrapes. Nothing serious. I switched to infrared to see through the debris. Everybody was up. No unmoving bodies. 

Switching back to normal visual range, I saw a young woman – covered head to toe in dust – help up an old guy. The dude was slim and a little bowed, white hair slicked back against his head, wiping dust out of his moustache. He pushed wide, gold-framed glasses up his nose. 

“Get outta here, ya bum!” he called, shaking one gnarled fist at me. “I just cleaned this place!”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, call nine-one-one,” I said, holding back an inappropriate snort of laughter. “Just in case someone hasn’t already.”

“There’s already been three thousand, one hundred and six calls made. One hundred and seven. Eight. Nine. One hundred and –”

“Guess I’m redundant then,” I muttered, striding to the crumbling opening I’d made in the wall, looking at the chaos below. Cars had stopped in the street, some abandoned, people running for shelter or just running away. The thick black clouds were dissipating. No sign of the dragon. 

A _dragon_ in New York. Christ. And here was me thinking aliens were the weirdest shit we could get.

“Stephen, where you at? You OK, man?”

“As fine as the last time you asked.” He floated into view in front of me, rising up from below. The Cloak fluttered around him, billowing to reveal the blue and pink checked lining. He was covered in even more soot now, his face streaked with it, mixing with the blood from that cut. My program didn’t reveal any serious injuries.

“Fire’s out?”

“Well, there’s a lot of wet people.” He shrugged.

I rolled my eyes. “Simple ‘yes’ would have done.”

“I’m the Sorcerer Supreme. I think it’s in my contract that nothing is ever simple.”

“Ha! Yeah. OK, so should we stick around here in case that thing comes back, or do we go after it? Why was it here? What did it want? What did it _say_ to me? Why did it leave?” I grimaced. “Actually, scratch all of the above. That last question’s the most important one.”

“That, I intend to find out.” His thoughtful gaze played over my face. “Leave him to me. I must return to Kamar-Taj.”

I glanced over to the ruins of the courthouse. I had more questions than the ones I’d just thrown at Stephen, lots more, but I couldn’t even begin to articulate them right now. The LMDs, the dragon, the words it had spoken to me – attacked me with? – I couldn’t process those thoughts right now. I needed a little time to decompress, get my head together.

I looked at the ruin of the courthouse. Yeah. I still had a job to do. The mess inside my head was gonna have to wait a little while longer.

Of one thing, though, I was absolutely sure: - Richard Montgomery was behind this. _All_ of this. Had to be. And I was going to hunt him down yet again. He could and would have his sentence decreed without his presence, and just as soon as I caught the bastard he was going straight back to supermax. 

He and I were gonna have a long conversation about where the hell he’d got those LMDs. 

Then he was gonna have a long conversation with Stephen about that fucking dragon.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a search and rescue sweep, Stephen returns to Kamar-Taj to research the dragon while Tony goes back to the Compound. He uses the time to decompress and allows himself to break down, to process everything he’s just experienced.

Stephen opened a mid-air portal to Kamar-Taj. I arrowed back down to the courthouse, talking F.R.I.D.A.Y through the protocol required to trace Montgomery. He was a squirrelly little shitbag. He’d be harder to find than a single snowflake in the fucking Arctic, but I’d get him. We were scanning his communication channels – the obvious ones, the hidden lines, his family, his personal physician, even his goddamned dentist. Business associates, known and suspected. And like Hannibal Lecter, he had expensive tastes. I’d _get_ him.

“I want those LMDs,” I told her. “Get a couple bots out there ASAP, start sifting through the wreckage. _Before_ S.H.I.E.L.D get their hands on anything.” That was assuming Toothy hadn’t just eaten them both. Jesus.

“On it, boss.”

The courthouse was surrounded by firemen. I found the Chief – a guy I knew pretty well, mostly from clean-up operations like this – and started co-ordinating with the rescue effort. Using the suit’s infra-red vision, it was easy to see where people had been trapped by falling masonry and debris, and using the enhanced strength it was easy to free them.

That meant it was easy to see the bodies.

People had died here. I could have – _should_ have – saved them. If I hadn’t let those fucking LMDs pin me down, I could have got people out, thrown up some kind of barrier against the debris, I could have – 

_Stop it,_ I told myself. _For God’s sake, you can’t keep doing this._

Telling myself something, and believing it, were two completely different things. I had this conversation with myself after every single fight, particularly the big ones. Both Battles of New York. Sokovia. God, did I blame the _shit_ out of myself for Sokovia. Objectively I knew people were going to die, however much I tried to protect them. It was a pure numbers game. 

That made it sound so fucking cold. Every time, it was hard to accept. I was struggling to accept it now.

_I was pinned down._

_But you’re Iron Man._

_The LMD blew up before I even knew there was a threat._

_But you’re Iron Man._

_I’m Iron Man. I should have protected them._

So I worked like a dog, ignoring the fact that my body hurt like hell and my mind was scrambled. Ignoring – _blocking out_ – the fact that something magical had been done to me, (or at the very least _around_ me) without my permission or understanding. I filled my head with search and rescue until I was sure, one hundred fucking per cent sure, there was no one left to find and no more bodies to recover. 

The Chief thanked me. Actually thanked me. 

That made it worse.

~~&~~

“I’ve got Director Fury on the line,” F.R.I.D.A.Y announced as I flew away from the ruined courthouse.

“What a surprise. Send him to voicemail.” Nick Fury was at the very bottom of the list of people I wanted to speak to right now, and he would always stay that way. “And screen my calls, will ya? No one but Stephen gets through.”

“Sure thing.”

I landed on the roof of the Avengers’ compound and tapped the ARC reactor. Nanites streamed back into the reactor housing. 

Without the suit’s augmentation I stumbled. Exhaustion hit my body in waves. Without the distraction of battle and the compartmentalising effects of a clean-up operation, all the aches and pains I’d been suppressing came raging back. My clothes were crumpled, torn, sweat-stained. Streaked with masonry dust and blood.

“Shall I send the bots out to help you?” F.R.I.D.A.Y asked, her concern evident.

“Not necessary,” I grunted. I could do this. I _would_ do this. Just a little stroll down to my quarters, that was all. 

Maybe I was getting too old. Or… too weary?

I cut that thought off as I walked toward the roof-top access point, a single security-controlled door. Whatever I felt about myself was irrelevant, because I had a job to do. I’d been reborn in Afghanistan. Not just Tony Stark, but Iron Man; a new life, a new purpose. That wasn’t a mantle I’d ever willingly take off. The day I retired, the day I _gave up,_ was the day scumbags like Richard Montgomery won.

But man. On days like today – when I was busted all to hell despite the suit, and guilt at my own inabilities ate me like a ravenous shark – I wondered whether I was doing the right thing. Whether it was my own vanity that stopped me hanging up the ARC reactor. Whether I loved being Iron Man just a little too much. Those were questions I didn’t think I’d ever be able to answer… mostly because I didn’t _want_ to answer them. The deepest part of my mind already knew the answers. 

I stood in front of the door, holding still while my retinas were scanned, then pushed inside as the door popped open. From the lobby it was a short elevator ride to my personal quarters. With the bedroom door closed and locked behind me, I could finally – _finally-_ – let the barriers drop.

I ripped the reactor off my shirt and tossed it onto the dresser, then stripped my clothes off and abandoned them on the floor. A shower. I needed another shower.

“Get Dum-E to toss those clothes in the trash,” I told F.R.I.D.A.Y.

“You know we could have them laundered and repaired.” Her tone was admonishing. 

“Fine, whatever.” At this point I didn’t care about anything except the knowledge I was about to fall apart.

“The first LMD parts are arriving in the compound.”

That made me pause, one leg already in the shower stall.

“Send them straight to the lab. Just give me some hot water.”

For once she didn’t nag me about the vagueness of the temperature setting, instead using her own initiative to instigate the ‘Nightmare’ mode. I tensed myself against the burn, one hand propped against the tiles, until I was completely soaked.

Finally – cocooned by water, knowing I was as safe in the compound as I could be – I allowed myself to react to this morning’s events. 

First, the fear I’d felt over the catastrophic failure of my suit. I put my other hand on the wall, straightening both arms, bracing my body in a way I couldn’t brace my mind. An ache started in my chest, right behind the mass of scarring left behind by the old reactors. Deep. Fierce. 

_My suit failed._

I was vulnerable. Completely exposed. In the space of a few seconds, the Iron Man identity had been ripped away from me, exposing who I really was – just a frightened guy, a regular person, dressing up his fear behind the tech equivalent of smoke and mirrors. 

I closed my eyes. Fear rolled over me in a wave. Another wave, stronger this time, and another, and another, until I was drowning under my own terror. Nothing I hadn’t felt before, right? Just another way of dying, right? I’d been dying ever since that debris lodged in my chest back in Afghanistan. Right? Installing the reactor had always been just a fancy way of delaying the inevitable. 

But I _hadn’t_ died. I was still alive. The debris was gone, the threat to my heart gone even before Thanos had shown his ugly purple ass on my planet. I’d survived Afghanistan. I’d survived Thanos. And these LMDs, yeah, I’d survived them too. Didn’t matter that I’d been rescued by a fucking dragon. I’d _survived._

But thinking about the dragon catapulted my thoughts right back to something that terrified me even more than feeling helpless: - feeling _used._ The way Wanda had manipulated my fears, pushed me into a course of action I’d spend the rest of my life regretting – those feelings were still fresh and raw in my mind, and always would be, regardless of how much therapy I had. And now… the dragon had pushed me, too. Made me feel emotions that weren’t my own. Had even spoken to me. A spell, magic, whatever, the end result was the same. Manipulation.

The terror of feeling helpless crashed against the horror of being manipulated, making my mind clench in spasmodic response, ripping through my psyche. My knees buckled. I dropped, the hard jolt as I landed making me yelp. I pressed my forehead against the wet wall.

_Feel. React. Let it all out, so you don’t fall apart the next time it happens._

A choked sob ripped out of my throat. Then another. Another. I didn’t try to stop them, didn’t consider how I’d look if anyone saw me. No one would. I was safe, sheltered. 

I cried into the hot water until I wasn’t sure what was coming from the shower head and what came from my own eyes.

~~&~~

Eventually the crying fit tailed off then stopped. I felt wrung out, exhaustion that had nothing to do with combat seeping through my system. A nap sounded great about now… except I didn’t have time. I had to check whether F.R.I.D.A.Y had made any progress tracking Montgomery, and I had to start working on the LMD wreckage. Maybe I could track Montgomery – or some of his people – through whatever mangled bits were left. 

And _then_ I had to talk to Stephen about the dragon. I couldn’t put Fury off forever; the old bastard was tenacious, and if I ignored his calls too long he’d make a house call.

“Water off,” I croaked, clearing my throat. I needed coffee, maybe something to eat. I lurched out of the shower, grabbed a towel, and started drying off, stumbling into the bedroom. DUM-E had cleared the ruined clothes away. There was a tray waiting for me on the dresser, a plate with burger and fries and a steaming mug of coffee.

“For me?” I murmured. My stomach growled.

“You expended energy during that last fight, boss. I’d recommend an examination from a medical professional, but the last time I ventured an opinion in that regard you threatened to replace my operating system with Windows 10.”

Oh my God. F.R.I.D.A.Y was great. I hadn’t programmed her to care about me, but it was something she’d evolved.

“Honey, I love ya. Anytime you want a memory upgrade, it’s yours.” I laughed and shoved a handful of fries into my mouth.

“I’ll need that in writing.” But she sounded pleased.

I caught sight of my reflection in the wall-mounted mirror. My neck and chest were a mess of bruises. I usually picked up a couple during a fight, but multiple dark, blue-purple stains spread down my throat and across my ribs. There were scatterings across my arms and legs, and a bruised blush across the left side of my jaw, partly hidden by the beard. I didn’t remember getting that one. Could have been from scrapping with the LMDs, or from being flung through a wall. 

I touched gentle fingers to my chin, winced, and added a couple of Tylenol to my first-aid requirements. I had some balm that helped with bruising. But first? I was gonna eat.

F.R.I.D.A.Y let me finish the burger and fries before she spoke again.

“I have Director Fury on the line.”

Sat on the edge of the bed, the towel still around my waist, I rolled my eyes and reached for the coffee.

“How many times is that now?”

“Close to triple figures.”

I winced. “Awesome. He’ll be in a great mood. Put him through.” With my terrors and insecurities washed away by the hot water (however temporarily) and some food in my belly, I felt better able to deal with him.

“Where the hell are you, asshole?”

“Nick.” I tutted. “Old buddy, old pal. Been just a _little_ bit busy.”

“I don’t care what you get up to in the sauna, you –”

And I was _done_ with this pissy banter. “Check your intel before you get shitty,” I snarled. “Strange is off working the monster angle, I’ve got feelers out for Montgomery. And nice of S.H.I.E.L.D to show up to the party before it was over. Oh, wait, they didn’t.”

He was silent for a couple of seconds. That was a first.

“Alright.” No apology, not that I’d expected one. “I need you guys to come in to debrief.”

“See, this is the part where I put the phone down ‘till you learn how to say ‘please’.” 

His silence was brief and annoyed. “I would very much like it if you and Doctor Strange could _please_ come in to debrief.” Sarcasm dripped from every word. I was pretty sure he was gritting his teeth. I loved it. 

“Well, since you asked so nice, I’ll see if we can fit you into our busy schedules.”

“Thank you _so much._ ” Priceless. “Oh, one last thing – my teams haven’t been able to find any wreckage from the LMDs. I want them, Stark.”

“And I want a pony. I found them first, Cue Ball. Get your own toys to play with.”


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen helps Tony prepare to debrief with Fury.

“So guess who called,” I told Stephen. I had him on speaker-phone while I applied basic first-aid to my injuries; I hadn’t even got round to putting on pants yet. The bruise balm smelled of ginger and honey and was kinda making me hungry again. 

“Hmm, I’m going to go out on a limb and say ‘not the Mayor of New York,’” he said. 

“Give the man a prize,” I said. “Fury requests our presence. I made him say ‘please’.”

“So you _can_ teach an old dog new tricks.”

“Oh, that old dog knows all the tricks. He just finds it easier to get things done by biting people.”

He laughed. “That’s fine until another dog bites back.”

“Hang on, am I the other dog in this analogy?”

“Yeah, you’re the mutt who keeps getting out of the yard to track down the neighbourhood bitches.” 

“Harsh, man, harsh.” Especially since I’d all but turned into a hermit since Pepper’s death. “You dig up any dirt on our scaly friend?” I wanted to ask more – about the words, the things the dragon had said to me – but fear of the unknown held me back. Or more like… fear of knowing too much.

“A little. Nothing that Fury will be happy to hear.”

“And we’re all about making that old bastard happy.” My fingers pressed too roughly over a bruise. I hissed. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Nothing that won’t heal,” I grunted. “It’s funny, when a mystical force knocks you through a building, it leaves a couple marks.”

“You should get those looked at.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said after a brief hesitation, hoping I hadn’t just perjured myself. Suspecting I had. Those bruises were _fierce._ “But I gotta get moving, it’s a long flight to the current S.H.I.E.L.D H.Q.” After the H.Y.D.R.A infiltration, Fury insisted on having a mobile base. It was currently somewhere around Nebraska… Iowa… I don’t know, one of those corn-fed states somewhere in the middle.

“Would you like a ride?” 

“Sweet of you to ask,” I drawled, “but I’m not drawing my pension just yet. Plus, the jet’s got booze.”

“Or,” Stephen replied, matching my tone, “we could make an entrance. I can open a portal right into his conference room.”

“Perfect!” I said, temporarily forgetting my bruises. “We get to be flashy _and_ piss Fury off. I’m in love. Marry me, Strange.”

The brief silence on the other end of the line made me curse my trite turn of phrase. He was either horrified, stunned, or… God, I don’t know. I flashed back to my thoughts in the courthouse, to our conversation, rapidly examining the banter again. Flirting? Not flirting? Or had we just been walking a line? I’d been out of the game long enough that it was hard to remember.

Finally he cleared his throat. “We’re not even at first base yet.” His tone was jovial, relaxed, not at all what I’d expected. “I need at least a _couple_ dates before we get to that stage.”

I laughed. He laughed. But beneath that, I was thinking. And I hoped he was too. 

For the first time I wanted our rough friendship to be something more. 

And that… well, that terrified the shit out of me.

I was pulling on a fresh pair of slacks when an orange-ringed portal opened on my bedroom wall. Sparks of energy whirled around the shape, fizzing into nothing before they reached the floor. Stephen strolled through, waved a hand, and closed the portal behind him. 

He didn’t look as if he’d spent time fighting a fire and rescuing a bunch of civilians. Either he had a spell up his sleeve for – well, cleaning sleeves – or, more likely, his wardrobes at Kamar-Taj or the Sanctum were full of the same outfit. He did, however, still wear the marks of battle; the cut on his cheek had been cleaned and held lightly closed with a couple of butterfly strips. Of course a former surgeon could take care of his own injuries.

“Ever heard of using the front door?” I said, taking a white shirt off the hangar I’d draped over the bed. I didn’t exactly use it to hide my bare chest, but if I just held it there, he wouldn’t see the bruising. Or the scars. “Could have been naked in here.”

I’d have been more comfortable in jeans and a sweater. But if I was being dragged off to see Fury, I wanted the advantage of style. 

Stephen’s eyes played slowly over me, lingering on the shirt before moving down over the slacks. My feet were bare. Hadn’t picked out socks yet.

“I’m sure it wouldn’t be the first time someone’s walked in on you barely-dressed.” There was a combative edge to his voice. 

“Well, there’s been a couple husbands… boyfriends…” I made myself lower the shirt. I wasn’t ashamed of the scars, but I wasn’t exactly wild about showing them off. I had to get over this contradiction if I wanted… whatever it was I wanted... with him. What the fuck was I thinking? There never _would_ be anything with him. “Actually there was this one time I persuaded the husband to stay –”

“Not that shirt,” he interrupted. His fingers twitched. The garment pulled away from my hands, drawn by the invisible force of his magic, fully revealing the bruising and scars left behind from countless surgeries. “It does nothing for your complexion.”

Alright then. Message received. He didn’t want to hear my past exploits (or mistakes, depending how you looked at them) and I had to accept that. Even if it was my subtle-yet-clumsy way of trying to tell him I was into him. 

“OK then, Mama Ru.” I rolled my eyes. I wouldn’t let him see how his comment stung. “Work your magic on me.” I held both arms open wide, scars – and bruises – fully on display. Take a look at this, asshole.

If I hadn’t been staring at his face, I would have missed his reaction. The hot flare of – _something_ – in his eyes. Maybe my efforts hadn’t been wasted, after all?

He stalked over to my walk-in wardrobe, the Cloak of Levitation fluttering behind him. The material ghosted over my ribs as he passed. Providing I didn’t think too much about it being a magical relic, I was cool with the Cloak. It had the personality of a hyped-up Labrador. And it seemed to like me, too. 

“Oh dear Lord, do you dress in the dark?” came Stephen’s muffled comment.

“Says the guy who looks like he stepped out of a fortune cookie. And _hey,_ that’s designer gear you’re talking about!”

“Designer doesn’t mean quality. It just means expensive.”

Alright, he had me there. It had taken me a long time to learn, but apparently expensive could also mean obnoxious. He’d once been part of that lifestyle, had learned the same lessons I had.

He emerged from the wardrobe holding a charcoal grey shirt.

“Ooh,” I said, taking the hangar from his outstretched hand. “We’re going for dark and moody, huh?”

“We need to out-brood Fury. I’ll take all the advantages we can get.”

That made me laugh. 

“Those bruises look serious,” he said, eyes playing over my chest again before moving up my throat. His gaze had sharpened. I was getting his professional assessment, this time, not his personal one. 

“Yeah, well.” I shrugged, removing the shirt from the hangar and sliding it on. Every single fucking muscle protested, despite the hot shower. I started working on the buttons. “Occupational hazard. Nothing’s broken.”

“You sure about that?”

“It only hurts when I breathe,” I said. Not a joke, though I made it sound like one. “Seriously, doc, I’ll be OK. Not my first rodeo.”

“Your first dragon, though.” His tone was sombre.

“What is it they say? You never forget your first.” He didn’t laugh, and I gave him a long, measuring look. “What, you think Godzilla might not be our _only_ dragon?”


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Stephen meet with Fury to debrief the morning’s attack. Stephen shares his research: - that the dragon comes from a world called Nirn, his name is Alduin, and he is a being of power.

“I swiped the broken LMDs out from Fury’s nose,” I said as I finished dressing, fastening my tie with deft hands. “Wanna go see?”

“Poaching on Fury’s territory?” He raised both eyebrows. “You like to live dangerously. But yes, I would very much like to examine these LMDs.”

“ _My_ territory,” I said. “It’s not just tech, it’s high tech. Which attacked _me._ That would be like… some rogue wizard using a magical device on you, then Gandalf comes waltzing in and expects you to hand it over.”

“Point taken,” he said dryly.

I led Stephen down to my lab. It occurred to me as I ushered him through the door that he’d never been here before. As much as Kamar-Taj or the Sanctum were his spiritual homes, so too was this mine; a physical representation of the way I thought, the way I acted. The bland kitchen, bedroom and dining areas? They weren’t my home. The laboratory was where I truly lived. 

I should be nervous about him being here… but I wasn’t. I was excited. 

He let out a low whistle as he followed me between work units. The lab took up several floors of the Compound, and encompassed the medical suite, multiple stations for equipment, large areas for testing, and a place reserved for ‘dirty’ work: - a big space in the basement I used for anything that required smelting, beating, hammering, or welding metal. It was as tricked out as I could make it… but it was still just a glorified forge. It was also one of my favourite places in the whole Compound. 

I paused between two work stations, turning so I could see whatever unguarded expression Stephen wore before he noticed me looking. His eyes had widened, lips parted. His gaze flicked to mine. 

“This place is incredible!” 

He didn’t try to hide his wonder. That meant a lot. It made me feel… I don’t know, trusted. As if by letting me see his reaction, he’d let me know him just a little better. I might have been over-analysing it – could easily have been over-analysing it, actually – but it felt right.   
“Thank you.” I didn’t try to sass him; he’d given me an honest response. That was worth a little respect.

“Oh, what’s this?” He ran his fingers along the edge of another station, where I’d left the plain old pen and paper blueprints for a work in progress. “Going old school?”

“More like keeping my feet on the ground,” I explained. “Working with holo projectors is awesome for allowing me to visualise what’s in here,” and I tapped the side of my head, “but sometimes I need to be reminded I won’t always have access to this.” I gestured to the lab around me. 

He gave me a curious look. “You’ve been in that position before, haven’t you?”

I thought of the shit-storm I’d gone through with the Mandarin. With Aldrich Killian. Like Richard Montgomery, he’d been another tech billionaire with a god complex. I was beginning to think we were a dangerous breed. 

Killian’s defeat had been headline news. I’d worked hard to keep the full truth of that time out of the press, for Pepper’s sake as well as my own.

“Remind me to tell you about it sometime,” I said. I didn’t want to get into it now – not when there were other, more important things to deal with – but I figured our friendship was tight enough that I could give him a little hint. “I lost… well, not everything, but a lot. My house. My suit. I almost lost…” I’d been about to say ‘Pepper’, but I didn’t want to bring her into the conversation. “The situation forced me to get back to my roots. Reminded me that when all’s said I’m done, I’m just a mechanic.”

“I would like to hear that story one day.” His voice was quiet, no trace of irony or sarcasm. I appreciated that. “I’ve a few of my own.”

I nodded, stuck out my hand. “You’re on.” We shook, his grip firm in mine. I pulled away, then let F.R.I.D.A.Y guide us to where she’d put the LMDs.

“Oh,” I said, when we got there. “This, uh, this wasn’t _exactly_ what I’d been expecting…”

The fragments I’d recovered were nothing more than that – fragments. Tangled scraps of metal, snarled wires, and globs of fake flesh. Dammit, was there enough left for me to track Montgomery?

“How long do you think it will take to study this?”

“A _lot_ longer than I’d thought.” I scratched the back of my neck. “I was gonna kick something off before we go see Fury, but I don’t trust this to the bots.” Over in the corner, DUM-E made a metallic whirring noise and raised an appendage. “Nothing personal, boys, but you’re not exactly designed for fine work.”

“I know that feeling,” Stephen murmured, more to himself than to me. I gave him a sideways glance, wondering if he’d meant for me to hear that comment. 

“More than one kind of fine work,” I said, feeling the need to reassure him – somehow – that even though he’d lost dexterity in his hands, he was far from crippled.

“That there is.” Thoughtful eyes played over my face. “Getting up again after you’ve been beaten down so many times, for a start.”

And I wasn’t going there. Not now. Not ever. I didn’t want to talk about any of my previous fights. I turned away, shutting the conversation down.

~~&~~

Stephen opened a portal directly into Fury’s main conference room. It was a large, cold-looking space – big oval table, dark blue carpet, metal walls. The S.H.I.E.L.D logo on the wall.

Fury was leaning over the table, both hands palms down, with Maria Hill beside him. They both turned to scowl at us as we strode through the portal. Oh yay, we’d gate-crashed a row between Mommy and Daddy. 

Stephen strode across the carpet, the Cloak billowing around his heels. Shoulders back, straight frame – yeah, he knew how to make an entrance. He might have commanded the room, but I owned it; I’d been making entrances since he was in med school, and I wasn’t about to let him hog _all_ the limelight. 

“Alright, the cavalry’s here,” I said, moving to the right. He took the left side and we stopped, roughly equidistant from each other around the table. “You can call me George if you want, I mean I didn’t _kill_ the thing but I sure as hell made it think twice. Or Mother, you know, Mother of Dragons, I’ll take that –”

“Sit down, Stark!” Fury barked. “I don’t have the _patience_ to deal with your bullshit today –”

“Hey, some respect –?”

“Sir, Parker’s here,” Hill interrupted. She was looking at a small hand-held tablet.

Fury straightened and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright. Send him in. Gentlemen, if you’ll take a seat.”

“What, no coffee first?” I dropped into the nearest chair, feet up on the table. “Not even those cute little biscuits they put on the saucer? I could eat a whole box of those –”

“This is a war council, not a hotel.” Hill’s voice whipped out. Oh goodie, I’d already worn out my welcome. Not a record – not quite – but close.

“You demanded our presence.” Stephen spoke for the first time, icy grey eyes moving disdainfully over the two S.H.I.E.L.D agents. God, this man _rocked_ the haughty look. “We came, out of common courtesy. But it’s clear you don’t just need my help. You need my expertise. This is an arcane matter.”

Wait, what? He’d said _my._ Not _our._ I mean yeah, he was the master of magic, but I was the one who’d actually attacked the dragon. I gave him a narrow-eyed look.

“You honestly expect me to believe this mumbo-jumbo?” Fury spat.

The asshole had balls, I’d give him that. To call magic ‘mumbo-jumbo’ – with the Sorcerer Supreme standing _right there_ – was either the height of arrogance, or the height of idiocy. Maybe both.

“Alright, I think we’re done here.” Stephen ran both hands along the front edge of the Cloak, making it flitter and roll. He glanced at me. “You want to get something to eat on the way back –?”

“What Director Fury _meant_ to say,” Hill interjected, shooting her boss a furious look, “is that magic is so far beyond the realms of what we’ve experienced that it’s hard to just take it at face value. Right, sir?”

Nice save. I wondered if Stephen really had intended us to quit the stage. He wasn’t the kind of guy to make empty threats, especially to someone like Fury.

And food right now sounded pretty damned good. The burger and fries had sure hit the spot, but that was just a snack when you burned through calories the way we did.

“S.H.I.E.L.D doesn’t officially recognise magic,” Fury said after a long, tense moment of silence. “It can’t be understood the way technology can, can’t be quantified or controlled.”

“Turned into a weapon, you mean.” Stephen’s snort was derisive. “And you’re wrong. It _can_ be understood, _can_ be harnessed, if you’re willing to open your mind to the possibilities. But neither Tony nor I came here to discuss the intricacies of magic.”

The door opened, saving Fury from a reply that – judging by the sour look on his face – would have got Stephen’s back up even more. Peter Parker shuffled in, wearing worn blue jeans, a faded black T-shirt, and dirty sneakers so old they were falling apart.

“Hey, Petey.” I waved; he waved back. Stephen still hadn’t sat down. I doubted he even intended to sit. Could the Cloak get creased? How did it feel about being sat on? Maybe it liked it. Now _there_ was an idea. 

“Tony. Doctor Strange.” He gave us both a small, nervous smile, then nodded at SH.I.E.L.D’s finest. “Director Fury. Agent Hill.”

“Where the hell were you, boy?” Fury barked.

“Hey, lay off the kid,” I growled, finally swinging my legs off the table so I could lean forward. “Don’t recall seeing _you_ in the fight, either.”

“It was all over before I got there!” Peter said, embarrassment and shame widening his eyes and painting a pink flush across his cheeks. “I mean I wasn’t even downtown, I had school, I snuck out as soon as I heard but –”

“Relax,” I said, waving him over to my side. “You don’t work for these guys, you’re not in trouble.” I stood and slung an arm around his shoulders, giving him a quick, hard hug. His smile – tight, fraught, still uncertain – made me hope that one day, _one_ day, I could be the kind of father-figure he needed. I was still working on that one.

“Are we ready to have a sensible conversation about this now?” Stephen remarked, looking pointedly at his watch. It always got me when he did that, the way he looked like a _Lord of the Rings_ reject but still used modern tech. According to him, Kamar-Taj even had Wi-Fi.

Fury made a testy noise, waved a hand, and finally sat down. I glanced at Hill and just caught her silent sigh of relief. So _that’s_ what they’d been arguing about; she wanted us here, but Fury didn’t. At least, he didn’t want _Stephen_ here. Fury wasn’t exactly a bad person, but he had an abrasive personality, an obsessive need to control, and a drive to push people until they broke. That magic existed – and S.H.I.E.L.D weren’t even officially players in the game – must rankle. 

Then my mind snagged back to one of Fury’s earlier comments. They didn’t _officially_ recognise that magic existed. That meant they had a more-secret-than-secret division working on it. I gave Stephen a small sideways look, wondering if he’d also caught the unintended implication. From the tense way he held his shoulders, I was sure he had. 

“How ‘bout that coffee?” I asked as I sat again, more for something to say than out of any real expectation. “Hey, some of us were getting knocked around by a dragon,” I said at Fury’s glower. “Thirsty work.”

“I think the last thing you need right now is caffeine.” His dry voice told me he’d settled down, stopped allowing himself to rise to my bait. Shame. It was fun riling him up. 

Stephen cleared his throat. That, more than anything, told me to dial it down – it was time to get on with some work. Peter sat beside me.

“Alright,” I began. “So today, Richard Montgomery was due to hear his sentencing. He used LMDs. Life Model Decoys,” I added for Peter’s benefit. “Basically androids. Just, you know, really good ones. S.H.I.E.L.D had some problems with them a while ago. I _thought_ they’d all been destroyed.”

“I’d been given assurances that they had been,” Fury said. He sounded sour. And well he should, because he’d dropped the ball on this one. “And trust me, I will be investigating that angle.” His shark’s grin told me he was going to throw his weight behind it. “Give me the broken LMDs.”

“Didn’t your mama ever teach you that ‘I want’ doesn’t get?” I growled. “I told you, you’re not getting them. I don’t trust you or S.H.I.E.L.D to keep them protected.” Given that they were primarily invested in defence, it was a big accusation to level. “The fragments stay with me.”

“Alright.” His voice was Haribo-level sourness now. “But have you considered the possibility that Montgomery developed them by himself? That they’re nothing to do with us?”

“Possible,” I conceded with a nod. “But I’m not putting my safety on the line based on assumptions. I’ve got programs running right now to track him down, and I’m sure you’ve got your own people on it.” He didn’t acknowledge my statement, but the gleam in his single eye was answer enough. “What concerns me is the tech these new LMDs were packing. They had something that was able to destabilise my suit.”

Fury was good at hiding it, but I still saw disquiet flicker across his face. 

“What happened? The reports were sketchy as hell.”

“Aside from the one who blew up, there were two of ‘em. They just piled on top of me and… poof. The suit disintegrated.” I broke out in a cold sweat, a ghost of the terror I’d felt gripping my guts. But I could control it now. I’d let it all out in the shower… I hoped.

“They broke your _suit?_ ” Peter said, horror-struck. I could see it in his eyes – he was learning I wasn’t the undefeatable hero he’d imagined me to be. I was human, just like him, just as vulnerable as him. It was a hard lesson to learn. And an important one.

I’d learned that lesson when my parents had been murdered. When I’d realised that my dad – this cold, aloof genius – wasn’t immortal. 

“My theory is they have something that weakens the nanite cohesion field,” I said. “But its reversible, and I think it requires close proximity to work. Like, contact. Soon as they moved away the suit started working again.”

“I heard the… creature… ate them,” Fury said. Come on, it wouldn’t kill him to say ‘dragon’.

“And I’d be studying the leftovers right now,” I replied, “if _someone_ hadn’t pulled me away from the job.” I leaned closer to Peter, then said in a mock-whisper, “It was Fury.”

Peter tried not to grin, looking down at the table. Fury scowled. Say what you like about the guy, he had the market cornered in scowls.

“Alright, let’s talk bottom-lines here,” he demanded. “Can you use the LMDs to track Montgomery?”

“Maybe.” I was sure they had all kinds of programming secrets, and I was going to take a disproportionate amount of pleasure in ripping those secrets free. There was only room for one tech genius in New York, and that was me. 

“Alright.” Fury nodded. “Doctor Strange, what do you know about the monster attack?”

“I believe he was a dragon,” Stephen said, finally sitting down. The Cloak flowed over the back of the chair. OK, so it didn’t want to be sat on. “He fled through a concealed portal before he could sustain any damage.”

“A real dragon?” Hill asked. There was nothing combative in her voice now. This was business. Like a true agent, she was trying to get to know her enemy.

“Indeed. Dragons are intensely magical creatures and are not native to this dimension.”

“How did he get here?”

“What does he want?” Fury asked.

“Why did he leave?” Peter added, sounding puzzled. “I’ve seen some of the news coverage, I mean he just kind of ripped the roof off the courthouse and set a couple buildings on fire.”

“Given the proximity of the attack to that of the LMDs, I want to believe it was likely being used as a distraction to give Richard Montgomery time to escape.” Stephen sounded sceptical. “But none of your intelligence – or mine – suggests he has access to the level of magic required to bring a dragon from one dimension to another.”

“You sure about that?” Fury grunted. “I know you’ve had to deal with some rogue sorcerers over the years.”

Stephen’s glare was cold and hard. “Quite sure. I know my people. I know their capabilities. Nobody has infiltrated _my_ organisation.”

Ouch. Fury let out a sharp breath, nostrils flaring. A muscle worked in his jaw. 

“What can you tell us about dragons?” Hill asked, shooting her boss a quelling look. Neither of them could refute Stephen’s comment, because it was true – the world immediately after H.Y.D.R.A’s infiltration of S.H.I.E.L.D had been a much darker, more uncertain place.

“They don’t belong in this dimension,” Stephen explained. “Or this time. As far as I could ascertain before I was summoned here, their home world is called Nirn. Their legends suggest they were created from the blood of a being they call divine. As a species, they were killed thousands of years ago.”

Fury scoffed. “You’re telling me they’re born from _gods?_ ”

“There’s no such thing as gods. But to an ant, the boot that crushes it is a god. The so-called deities of Nirn are beings of power. Likewise, so are the dragons.”

The whole ant / boot analogy sounded familiar, and after a second of mental rummaging I recalled that it was something Loki had once said to me. We’d proved that even ants could make the boot think twice about where it stepped.

“You’re saying the dragon also has magic?” Hill asked.

“They’re made from magic. They speak it as a language.” Stephen’s eyes flicked briefly to me, and in that moment I knew there was more he wasn’t telling us. Or at least, not telling S.H.I.E.L.D. I wasn’t surprised. I wouldn’t want to give away all the state secrets, either.

“How do we bring them down? Are they susceptible to our weapons?”

“Most things will bleed if you hit them hard enough.”

“That’s not an answer.” Fury’s glower told me, loud and clear, that he’d like to see whether Stephen would bleed if he was hit hard enough.

“It’s all the answer I can give without more research.” Stephen’s lips thinned, and his eyes were flashing, a sure sign that his patience was wearing. “If the dragon who attacked us today is who I think he is, then we’ll need to hit him with everything we can find.” He hesitated. “And even that may not be enough.”

“You mean this dude’s got a _name?_ ”

“They’re sentient creatures in their own right. Of course he has a name. The people of Nirn called him God-King. World Eater. First-Born of Akatosh. Alduin.”

_Alduin._

_World-Eater._

The words sent a ripple along my spine. Dread, excitement, I couldn’t tell, only that it was laced with the same feeling of exhilaration I’d felt when the big-ass black dragon had called me _Dovahkiin._ I looked at the table, hiding whatever my eyes were saying. The last thing I needed was anyone to get the idea I’d somehow been enslaved by this monster. 

“Alright.” Fury’s tone was sour. “Go back to your books. Anything else you can find. Stark, let me know what you find with the LMDs.”

I raised my face. Stephen looked furious; as the Sorcerer Supreme, he was used to giving orders, not receiving them. His mouth had opened – had even formed the first syllable of what I was sure would be a world-class put-down – when a metallic ripping noise made us all look up at the purple-ringed portal opening a couple feet above the table.


	7. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A portal opens in the conference room, disgorging a visitor from another world with a dire warning – beware Alduin. Stephen takes him back to Kamar-Taj to recover. Meanwhile, F.R.I.D.A.Y uses emotional blackmail to persuade Tony to take a proper rest.

The portal gaped open. Whatever lay beyond was obscured by a grey-black veil, rippling with energy. We reacted as one: - Fury and Hill jumped back, going for their guns, taking up classic shooter’s stances as they aimed at the portal; Stephen stood and kicked the chair away, an orange shield in one hand and a fluttering ball of light in the other, the Cloak wavering around his legs; I slapped the ARC reactor and suited up. Peter, his reactions a few seconds ahead of us golden oldies, leapt nimbly up to perch on the back of the chair, his sense of balance defying gravity and the laws of IKEA.

A humanoid figure tumbled through the portal, landing on the table with a stifled groan. Grey robe. Grey hood. No face visible. 

The portal closed with a metallic _snap._ All that could be heard was the intruder’s harsh breathing. 

A voice came out of the hood, weak, male, yet with a hint of strength that suggested exhaustion rather than frailty. I didn’t recognise the language. He rose up on his forearms, and I saw a pale human face lined with age. Thick brown beard, streaked with white. Eyes that burned.

“I have a spell that will translate,” Stephen barked.

“Do it,” Fury said.

Stephen looked at Hill, then Peter. They both nodded. He looked at me last, eyebrows raised. Giving me the choice.

_Magic, he’s going to use magic –_

“Fine by me.” It wasn’t, not really, but the situation was more important than my hang-ups. He understood I wasn’t comfortable around magic. Did he understand this, too? His eyes had narrowed. No way to tell.

Stephen brought his hands together in what looked like a prayer, muttering a word I couldn’t hear. Green light glowed between his closed fingers. He pointed at the hooded man. Light flowed from one to the other, enveloping him before vanishing.

“Speak,” Stephen commanded. 

“Beware!” The man’s voice sounded like heavily accented Scandinavian. “Beware Alduin…” 

Then he collapsed.

~~&~~

I pushed all my fears – of magic, of Alduin, of feeling out-of-control in my own skin – down deep. I couldn’t keep them contained for long, but I had to try. I would fall apart in my own damned time.

“Lock the base down,” Fury snapped to Hill. She nodded and sheathed her weapon, then tapped her earpiece. “Friend of yours, Strange?”

Stephen looked troubled. “I’ve never met this man. But he knows of Alduin, so it’s in our interests right now to make sure he doesn’t die.”

Peter leapt lightly onto the table. The chair didn’t even move – control and precision, right there. Sometimes I envied him that grace, but then I remembered what he’d gone through to get those powers. Getting bitten by a radioactive spider didn’t appear anywhere on my ‘to-do’ list. 

He tweaked the man’s hood aside, pressing his fingers to his neck.

“He’s alive. Unconscious.”

“If this man is from Nirn, then the magical expenditure required to travel from his dimension to ours is phenomenal,” Stephen said, finally letting his shield and energy ball dissipate. I wondered if he was working out the math in his head. “I’ll take him to Kamar-Taj –”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Fury barked. “I’m not letting another goddamned alien run loose on this planet!”

“He’s as human as you or I.” Stephen rolled his eyes. He had a nice line in eye-roll, almost as good as mine. “And trust me, if you knew the true number of aliens and inter-dimensional beings ‘running around’, you’d realise _that_ was a battle you could never win.”

Wow. Whereas Fury and I made a hobby out of sniping at each other, Stephen didn’t mess around – he went straight for the throat. I admired that. I didn’t want those teeth around _my_ neck. The very first time we’d met had been an indication of what things could be like if we ever stopped being civil; though we’d built up some kind of friendship since then, it was only a matter of time before we clashed again.

Fury – either realising he was being baited or, more likely, at a loss for any kind of response that wouldn’t start a fight – glared and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Well, that was awkward,” I muttered. “And I never did get that coffee.”

“Sorry.” Hill’s voice was frosty as she headed to the door. “We’ll make sure you get room service next time.” She followed after her boss.

~~&~~

Stephen opened a portal with one hand and lifted our uninvited visitor with the other, twitching his fingers until the robed guy rose smoothly into the air.

“I’ll contact you when I have more information,” he said.

“We need to talk,” I said bluntly. “That dragon spoke to me. Spoke to me. I want – no, I _need_ to know what that overgrown handbag said.”

“I can’t say with any certainty.” He waved a hand. The robed man floated through the portal, and Stephen turned to follow. I recognised a dismissal when I saw one.

“You have to give me _something!_ ” I called across the room. A wall of panic rose up inside me, fear of the unknown, fear of being manipulated. But Stephen had already stepped through the portal. I saw a dark courtyard on the other side, trees in flower, caught the scent of heavy blossom. Kamar-Taj was around nine hours ahead of us, and it was night-time there now. “Please?”

He stopped. It cost me to say _please,_ and I think he knew that. He looked over his shoulder and met my eyes.

“You deserve to know the full truth,” he said. “And I just don’t have it yet. I don’t want to…” He sighed, a short, heavy sound. “I don’t want to cloud the issue with speculation.”

“So that’s it?” I demanded, stung. “You’re just gonna walk out of here? Don’t Petey and I even get a one-way trip back to Kansas?”

“I’m sure Fury will be delighted to escort you both home.” He walked fully through the portal. 

“Asshole!” I yelled, stumbling forward. “I’m spamming your inbox!”

The portal closed behind him with a final shower of orange sparks.

~~&~~

I didn’t bother S.H.I.E.L.D for a ride. I stalked out of that underground base with my head held high, Peter at my side, looking around him with wary – yet curious – eyes. Before we’d even left the conference room I’d had F.R.I.D.A.Y send the jet. We’d have to wait a few minutes, but with all the enhanced propulsion, it wouldn’t be _that_ long.

But still. We shouldn’t have had to wait at all. Stephen had just… abandoned us.

“So what’s the plan?” Peter asked when we finally got outside. We’d emerged in a cornfield, a single unremarkable bunker at the end of a long, dusty drive. “We’re not gonna let Doctor Strange hog all the glory, right?”

“’S’not about glory,” I muttered. “We’re not doing this for the LOLS.” Peter winced. “Yeah, you heard me, I’m down with the kids.” He rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘OK, boomer.’ “This is about working together. He’s shutting me out.”

I stopped. Peter had walked a few steps before he realised I wasn’t next to him. He turned, but I barely noticed the look on his face, lost in my own revelation.

_He’s shutting me out._ The realisation hurt. We’d fought side by side, formed this rough kind of friendship, and now he was pushing me aside. Did he think the dragon was more than a regular, nanite-wearing Joe could handle? More than a job for one Avenger? Or hell, more than a job for two Avengers, since we were pretty much the only people not currently on missions. People underestimated Peter at their own risk. Plenty of street crims who’d learned that the hard way.

“Tony?” Peter’s voice finally penetrated my thoughts.

“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “Spaced out there for a second. Look, if Dumbledore wants to play his games, that’s fine. He can paw through as many dusty old books as he likes. Me, I’ve got some LMDs to dissect.” 

Peter gave me a long, assessing look. I didn’t know what conclusions he was drawing. I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know. In some ways the kid was wiser than his years.

“Need a hand?” he asked.

“You got homework?”

He rolled his eyes. “Calculus. It’ll take me like five minutes.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.” I pointed a finger at him. “If I hear from May you’ve been slacking, I’ll come visit. And _boy,_ do I love visiting May.”

He groaned. “Dude. Stop already. She’s seeing Happy.”

“Huh.” 

That threw me back. Happy hadn’t worked for me for a while. He’d wanted a safer job, he’d said, one where he wasn’t likely to get blown up or shot or strangled every five minutes. I understood his choice, and I respected the hell out of it. I’d hated to see him go – hated it so fucking much I’d offered him the pay rise and perks of his choice – but he’d countered by saying he enjoyed living. I’d given him a recommendation and severance package he’d be telling his grandkids about.

I gave Petey a sideways look. If Happy was serious about May, than his grandkids would be Peter’s cousins. Second cousins? Step second cousins? Nieces and nephews? Hell if I knew. 

“So can I?” he asked. “Help, that is?”

“Sure, why not. Not every day you get to play with toys like that. Swing by after school.”

“Wait, you’re sending me back?” His dismay was almost enough to make me laugh. 

“That’s what you get for shattering my hopes and dreams, kid.”

He shot me an accusing look, his forehead wrinkling, lips pursing in a pout. It was cute. 

“Doctor Strange isn’t the only one who doesn’t know how to share his toys,” he grumbled.

Ouch. That hurt.

~~&~~

I started work on the LMD wreckage as soon as I stepped foot in the lab.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, get DUM-E to bring me a change of clothes.”

“You have legs, boss.” She sounded disapproving. “You could fetch them yourself.”

“You don’t make robots and do things yourself,” I said, clapping my hands together as I hurried across the lab. “Rule one of robot club.”

“I think I must have missed that lesson.” Her voice dripped sarcasm. Oh F.R.I.D.A.Y, I’d trained you well. “What would you like to change into?”

“Surprise me.”

I was pawing through my equipment, looking for the fine tools needed for delicate work, when the whine of DUM-E’s motor made me look up. 

“Come on!” I growled. “Seriously? I didn’t even know I owned pyjamas!”

“You need rest.” 

“What I _need_ is to get on with a little work!”

“Should I remind you what happens when you don’t rest?” Her tone sharpened. Wow. She’d never spoken to me like that before.

“Yeah, I get things done!” 

“When you’re exhausted you make mistakes.” She wasn’t cutting me any slack. “When you make mistakes, it’s not just yourself you’re hurting.” Unexpectedly, her voice softened. “You hurt other people.”

Her words hit me with the force of a blow, making me reel back from the work station. She was right. God _dammit, _she was right. I did some of my best work when I skated the edge of exhaustion, but I also made some of my biggest mistakes.__

__“I didn’t program you to be so damned good at emotional blackmail,” I rasped, gripping the edge of the station._ _

__“No. But you programmed me to learn.”_ _

__I think that hurt even worse than knowing she was right._ _

__~~ &~~_ _

__I took the rest of the day. I’m not gonna lie, I was bored, right up until the point I had something else to eat (more cereal, this time). Then I was bored and sleepy. F.R.I.D.A.Y didn’t have any leads on Montgomery; she wouldn’t let me work on the LMDs; I didn’t have any company business to attend. So I napped._ _

___Big_ mistake. I woke sometime in the early evening, stiff, sore, and hardly able to move. Everything had seized up. Goddamn F.R.I.D.A.Y – particularly as she’d contacted Petey, told him to come by the next day as I had to go nap-nap – and goddam Stephen. If I was working I wouldn’t hurt like hell. If I was working I wouldn’t have the mental space to think about why he’d shut me out of his investigation. _ _

__It had occurred to me (as I lurched into the bathroom, every muscle screaming as I ran a bath) that maybe, just maybe, Stephen was considering my feelings. Specifically, the way I felt about magic. The dragon – Alduin? – he reeked of magic. The words he’d said to me were saturated with the stuff. The idea of doing anything related to that monster made my skin crawl._ _

__But… he spoke as if he knew me. That word, that single word. _Dovahkiin._ What the hell did that mean?_ _

__Screw this. I wasn’t letting Stephen work alone. I couldn’t. I’d give him a couple days. Maybe just enough time to get rid of some of these fucking bruises, and work out the stiffness in my muscles. Then I was gonna start throwing my weight around._ _

__But right now – and God, oh my _God_ – this bath was fucking divine._ _


	8. 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony invites Peter Parker to work with him on investigating the LMD fragments. F.R.I.D.A.Y alerts Tony that another dragon – not Alduin – is attacking a town in upstate New York. He collects Peter on the way.

I didn’t start work on the LMD fragments until the next day. F.R.I.D.A.Y made me eat a hearty breakfast, and I wolfed it down without too much complaint – I was hungry as hell. Couple rounds of toast, big bowl of cereal… yeah, not exactly the healthiest meal I’d ever had, but it hit the spot.

“You could always hire a chef,” F.R.I.D.A.Y said as I stacked my dirty crockery in the dishwasher. Oh yeah, bending… not a good idea right now, judging by the way my back twinged.

“Starting to think that’s a great plan,” I replied, digging the fingers of one hand into the flesh and muscle at the back of my hip. I hissed and pulled my hand away. “Or maybe, I don’t know, I could hire someone else to be Iron Man. Retire to Hawaii.”

“Then there’d be no-one left for Doctor Strange to harangue.”

My laugh was just the wrong side of sour. “Yeah. How terrible. Now where did I leave that little pot of…?” Leaning against the top of the dishwasher, I turned around, as if by looking I could somehow will it to appear on the table.

“You left the bruise balm in your bedroom.” F.R.I.D.A.Y’s sigh seemed rather more long-suffering than I felt was warranted.

“Alright, alright. Maybe I can hire someone to replace _you._ ”

She laughed, a bright, tinkling sound that made me smile. “Oh, boss. No-one could replace me.”

~~&~~

I hobbled back up to my bedroom, then – at F.R.I.D.A.Y’s direction – found the first aid kit where I’d dumped it yesterday. She was right. I couldn’t possibly replace her. She was a PA, a nanny, and an old mother hen all rolled into one.

I slathered more cream over my bruises, dressed with care, and made my slow way into the lab.

Ten minutes later I’d forgotten all about my ouchies. Even though the LMDs were nothing more than bits and pieces, they represented a fascinating challenge, and it took me a couple of hours just to repurpose and recalibrate some of my diagnostic equipment. By the time I’d actually started getting meaningful data, it was late afternoon, and F.R.I.D.A.Y was telling me Peter was on his way.

“Hey, Underoos,” I said as he crossed the lab. “How’s it hanging?”

“Little to the left,” he snickered. “Hey, that’s one hell of a bruise across your…” He touched his jaw.

I fumbled for my cell, turning on the reverse camera. _Ouch._ He hadn’t been kidding. It had spread in the night, curving over my chin and up the side of my jaw. The joint ached a little, though not as much as my ribs. 

“Well, that’ll happen if you get thrown through a building.”

“You OK, man?”

Bless him for asking. “Peachy.”

One of the first lessons he’d learned – that _I’d_ learned, hell, probably _all_ of the Avengers had learned – was that unless we were physically bleeding out, we had a tendency to lie about the extent of our physical injuries. And even then we’d probably try to pass it off as a ‘flesh wound’. Call it what you wanted – stoicism, idiocy, image – we were terrible at admitting we needed help.

The look on Peter’s face told me he knew I was lying. But I was pretty sure that, for as long as he was here, he’d be keeping an eye on me. I didn’t deserve his care… but I sure as hell appreciated it.

~~&~~

In the lab, I guided Peter to the area I’d set aside for the LMD project. There wasn’t much data to share with him, not yet, and what little I’d recovered had layers of complexity I’d never seen before. The programming was sophisticated and that pissed me off. I didn’t believe in having arch enemies – there was plenty of me to go around, I could share – but if I _did_ have an arch enemy, it would be Richard Montgomery. 

I encouraged him to study the physical wreckage as well as the data I’d pulled out; I wanted his take on it, wanted a fresher, younger pair of eyes. I encouraged him to make a few suggestions. We talked through what I didn’t think would work, and why, then pushed on with the ideas we thought would work.

His last suggestion seemed to be working pretty well, judging by the stream of data we were pulling out. But it was garbled and mashed up. Encrypted seven ways to hell. Whatever we recovered wouldn’t just be fragmentary, it would be shattered. Piecing it together into something usable would be art. 

“Man, this is gonna take forever,” Peter groaned. We were sat side by side at one of the work stations. “It’s like… we’ve got this jigsaw, right? And all the pieces are jumbled together, but it’s more than one jigsaw. We’re missing the corner pieces, the cat’s eaten a couple bits from the middle, and your baby sister’s rammed a piece up her nose.”

I laughed until it hurt, clutching my ribs, in the end just burying my face in my arms as I bent. Finally I got myself under control, wiping damp eyes and massaging sore cheeks.

“Oh, kid, you just made my day.” I clapped a hand on his shoulder, and he grinned, a big, goofy smile that lifted my heart even further. He had energy and enthusiasm in spades. I hoped he would never lose them, though I was realistic enough – cynical enough? – to know he couldn’t keep hold of them forever.

I sent him home a couple hours after that. He had school and he needed sleep. Although to be fair, it was May’s pissy text message that made me realise how late it was. 

“Go to bed, boss.”

“C’mon, F.R.I.D.A.Y…”

“Must I threaten you again with the Strange Protocol?”

“Oh, you just go right ahead and do it. Call him. I don’t care,” I growled. “He’s got his super-secret magic shit to mess around with.” I wondered whether the guy from Nirn had woken up yet. Whether he was even alive. 

“I called him,” she said, a few minutes later. She sounded incredulous. “He didn’t answer.”

“Told ya.” My lips parted in a sneer. Why had I even thought we were friends? As soon as something caught his arcane eye, I got pushed aside.

I winced. That was unfair. He was the Sorcerer Supreme. He had his own responsibilities, his own distractions, and it was wrong to assume he had the time or leisure to drop everything and come see how _I_ was doing. 

Dammit… I _was_ tired. My head was all over the place. Sighing, locking the lab down as I left, I went to bed.

~~&~~

A blaring alarm cut through my sleep. Squinting though my cracked eyelids, I saw the time – four nineteen – and groaned.

“What’s going on?” I called over the noise, pushing myself up. The blanket tumbled away. Oh goodie, I’d remembered to put something on before I’d gone to bed… or rather, just neglected to take things off. Tank top and boxer-briefs, scuzzy sweat socks, but hey.

“Another dragon’s been sighted over upstate New York,” F.R.I.D.A.Y announced.

“Alduin?” My voice came out as a scratchy croak. Cold sweat pricked my skin. I wasn’t ready to go up against that monster again, I needed to make all kinds of moderations to the suit, why the hell had I let myself get distracted by the LMDs when I should be focussing on dragon-killing – 

“Initial reports suggest not. The creature is thirty to forty per cent smaller, and brown, rather than black.”

God _dammit._ Stephen had suggested – in a roundabout way – there were more of these monsters. Where had they come from? I needed answers, even if I had to prize them out of Kamar-Taj.

“Alright,” I said, rolling out of bed and reaching for the ARC reactor on the bedside table. “Liaise with S.H.I.E.L.D, make sure they get an invite to the party. What’s the status of the rest of the team?”

“Out of the country on missions. Vision and Wanda are still in deep hiding.”

My upper lip curled back from my teeth. Aside from the Hulk, Vis was one of the most high-profile non-humans still on Earth, and Wanda had gone with him. That suited me just fine. I respected the hell out Vis, but he would always represent one of the biggest mistakes I’d ever made in my life, and the end of so many thousands of peoples’ lives in Sokovia. He’d never be completely out of mind. But out of sight sure helped. And Wanda… yeah, she was part of that, too.

What I felt for Wanda was complicated. I wanted to think I didn’t hate her, and I tried hard not to let that emotion cloud my judgements. But I knew part of me _would_ always hate her, if only a little, and that made me ashamed. The powers she’d gained – the experiments she’d put herself through under H.Y.D.R.A – that was all my fault, all to get revenge on me. My weapons had destroyed her family and I would have to live with that knowledge for the rest of my life. That she’d turned on H.Y.D.R.A in the end, thrown her support to _my_ people, was a big mark in her favour.

Like I said. Complicated.

Aside from Vis, Thor and the remnants of his people kept to themselves in New Asgard. They’d had more than their fair share of problems with Pure Human, but they were capable of holding their own. Asgardians were super-hard to kill.

I half-thought about asking Thor to lend a hand. But even with his own special mode of transport it would take too long for him to get here. That left me, Petey… and Stephen.

“Call Stephen,” I grumbled. The asshole probably already knew what was going on; he might even be on the scene. “And Petey. I’ll pick him up on the way.”

~~&~~

It took a lot longer to get Peter than I’d expected, mostly because his Aunt May was throwing a bitch fit about him going. I waited in the living room as they argued in his bedroom, and I wished I’d just gone in through his window rather than knocking on the front door. Despite my best efforts to ignore them, I kept hearing snatches as they shouted at each other.

“…fought Thanos! Come on, May, this is just a dragon!”

“ _Just_ a dragon?” God, that woman could _shriek._ Poor Happy.

Two minutes later Peter stalked out, face tight and eyes flashing.

“Let’s go,” he growled. May, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, glared out at us.

“Bring him home safe,” she shot in my direction, “oh so help me God…”

“He’s not a kid,” I shot right back. “You know I’m gonna look out for him, but you have to remember that.”

She didn’t say anything, her mouth tightening, and after a few seconds I realised it was because she was struggling not to cry.

“I’m gonna look out for him,” I said again, more gently.


	9. 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter coordinates with the fire crews while Tony fights the dragon. He kills him, but not without sustaining injuries – and not before the dragon’s death subjects him to a white-gold burst of energy that makes him feel like a god. During this heightened state, Tony kisses Stephen, an act which will change their relationship forever.

Peter’s suit didn’t have flight capabilities, and I made a mental note to think about that during the next upgrade cycle. The reason I hadn’t made those modifications yet was because it would drastically alter the look of his suit; I used palm and foot repulsors in mine, but my gear was bulky. Peter’s abilities relied on him being stream-lined and flexible. Right now, the mods weren’t worth the trade-off. 

So once I’d suited up outside his apartment block, I carried him. Specifically I carried him in a web sling. I was trying so hard not to crack jokes about that. 

“Dude, just say it,” he said sullenly as we sped out of the city and further upstate. 

“Nope, nope, think I’ll just save them all up for when you get married to MJ,” I said, knowing that talking about his girlfriend was a sure-fire way of getting him to shut up. Bingo – blessed silence for the rest of the short journey.

To say that he was touchy about the subject of his girlfriend was an understatement. She knew he was Spider-Man (had known for a long time, apparently) and she was OK with that. He was fiercely protective of her. That may or may not cause problems for him down the line, but until he was ready to listen to an experienced adult (some would say overly-experienced man-child) there was no point trying to advise him. 

The dragon’s attack became apparent as we approached Salamanca, a small town in upstate New York. The town was burning. I don’t just mean a few buildings – whole streets were on fire, the flames converging to set multiple neighbourhoods ablaze. 

I hovered in the air, horrified at the devastation, helplessly thinking about the number of casualties. 

“Let me go co-ordinate with the fire department,” Peter said, tugging on the sling. 

I was torn. I wanted his help with the dragon, but the scene below was hellish. He could do real good here.

“Alright,” I said shortly, angling down to the nearest tall building. Numbers crawled along my HUD, telling me the suit was compensating for the incredible heat outside. I was glad I’d put a coolant system in Peter’s suit. “But stay in contact, and _be careful._ ”

“Got it.” No quips, no backchat, just simple agreement. “Is Doctor Strange coming?”

“Beginning to wonder about that myself,” I said, scanning the skies. “Keep an eye out, holler if you see him.” I sat him down on a smoking rooftop, the sling retracting back into my suit, and gripped his shoulder. “Be careful,” I said again.

He nodded then ran past me to the edge of the roof. His arm shot out, silk rope bridging the space between this building and the next. He leapt and was gone.

Behind me, a tremendous roar split the smoke-filled air. I let out a hard breath, trying to tamp down my already-high fear, feeling it as an acid ball in the pit of my stomach. _Where are you, Stephen?_

“Where’s the dragon?” I asked F.R.I.D.A.Y, jumping up and arrowing into the smoky night sky. I couldn’t see jack shit through this mess. 

“Target is incoming –”

Her warning came too late. Flame billowed over the suit, making the internal temperature skyrocket despite the cooling system. Alarms blared in my ears. I stared frantically at the HUD. I wasn’t just hot, I was _burning,_ my skin was _burning,_ I had to get out –

Then I was free of the direct blast. Coolant flooded the internal structure of the suit and I was able to get a grip on my wild reactions.

“Damage report!” I howled, climbing higher to put space between me and the dragon.

“Suit integrity is down to sixty-two per cent. You’ve sustained minor burns, boss.”

“Track that motherfucker,” I growled, scanning the churning mass of clouds again. The suit applied numbing agent to basic wounds, but I was shit out of luck with burns, an oversight I’d have to fix with the next upgrade. I ignored the pain as best I could.

The dragon was out of sight. Wanted to play cat and mouse, huh? I was gonna teach him he was not the cat. 

I couldn’t take many more hits like that. 

“Tracking.” F.R.I.D.A.Y’s voice was terse.

A red blip appeared on the HUD. _Got you, bitch._

The monster exploded out of a crimson-tinged cloud bank. I got my first clear sight of him. He was big – there was no getting around that – though significantly smaller than Alduin. But that was like saying a hammerhead was smaller than a Great White. They’d still bite your foot off. 

He hovered in the churning pre-dawn sky, wings outstretched, massive tail whipping as he maintained balance.

“Where are you, _Dovahkiin?_ ” His voice boomed over the burning town, making my bones ache. “Show yourself to me! Show yourself to Usreyth!” 

His long maw gaped again as he roared. Flame belched from his mouth. 

“Nice of you to introduce yourself,” I snarled, directing extra power to the foot repulsors so I could speed closer. Terror pounded in my chest. I felt nauseous.

“Rockets,” I told F.R.I.D.A.Y. “Get him off balance, I’m gonna put him down!”

“Auto targeting now.”

I heard a click as the shoulder-mounted launchers lifted into place, nanites reassembling themselves. God, I loved this suit sometimes. A second later the mini-rockets deployed. Their white com trails contrasted against the oily black smoke.

Usreyth either didn’t see their approach or, more likely, didn’t realise they were a threat. They hit him and exploded. I let out a wordless yell of triumph and punched the air.

He screamed and plummeted, massive wings pumping hard to keep him aloft. I dived after him, palm repulsors angled as I dialled up the power to max. I targeted his wings and let out a sustained burst of energy. The repulsors punched a neat hole in each wing.

Another scream. He hit the ground hard and skidded, colliding with several burning buildings; I hoped like hell there was nobody trapped inside. Rubble exploded around Usreyth’s body, showering the street with detritus and smashing up the asphalt road. 

I flew down, piling extra power into the foot repulsors, activating the suit’s nanite sword as I went. I’d programmed it to have the shape of a katana – long, lethally sharp, beautiful and gleaming. Hot-rod red handle, gold blade, lightweight and perfect.

I swooped lower. Usreyth was bellowing, useless wings flapping, shifting from one hind foot to the other. I shot past, raking the katana along his flank, slicing his leathery hide. He screeched and snapped at me. I barrel-rolled away. 

I flipped and arrowed back, getting in close enough to cut him again. Too slow – those massive jaws clamped on my right leg, teeth grinding against the metal.

“Fuck!” Panic surged through my system, heightening my already hyper senses, and I saw the battlefield with crystal clarity – roiling clouds overhead, stained with smoke; ruined buildings, fire-damaged and broken. Usreyth, maimed and bloodied, black eyes glaring furiously.

An orange-ringed portal, opening above the smashed street.

Nanites streamed to reinforce the bite impact zone around my calf, but it hurt like hell, and I knew there’d be some damage there. I trusted the suit would at least stop me bleeding out on the battlefield. I reversed my grip on the sword hilt, grabbed it with both hands, and stabbed it down into one huge eye.

The orb exploded with a wet slap, spraying ichor over the sword and suit. Usreyth’s high-pitched shriek of agony made my ears ring. He reared away. I jerked the katana free rather than risk it being ripped out of my hands. At least it made him let me go, but in his rage he lunged at me again. 

His depth perception was shot all to hell and he missed. I flipped out of the way and rolled onto his back. His ruined wings flapped and trembled, but the wounds didn’t bleed; fun fact, repulsors cauterised as they cut.

Before I could get close enough to stab, he reared on to his hind legs, trying to knock me aside. I grabbed one of the huge spikes running along his spine, enhanced strength gripping hard enough to crush, and straddled the space between spikes.

I got a two-handed grip on the sword’s hilt, bringing the blade up and reversing it. I drove the blade as hard as I could through the dragon’s scaly hide, through his flesh, his bones, and hopefully through his fucking heart.

Usreyth screamed – a single, high-pitched whine – and dropped, making the ground shake. The impact knocked my hands off the sword and I tumbled free, repulsors kicking in and catching me before I landed. I grabbed the sword and yanked it free, deliberately making it cut through flesh and hide.

Usreyth shuddered once and was still.

I landed ten or fifteen feet away. I stalked forward, eyes narrowed, watching him for a single sign of movement. There was none.

“Is he dead, F.R.I.D.A.Y?”

“Insufficient data to form an answer. But I can’t detect a heartbeat or the rise and fall of lungs. He bleeds red, which suggests he has oxygen in his blood.”

That was good enough for me. But something felt… incomplete. As if killing him wasn’t enough. Adrenaline surged through my system, heightening my anger but also heightening my fear. I wanted to _dominate_ this asshole, let the whole world know that it was _me_ who killed him, and yeah, I’d do the same to any other scaly fuckers who poked their heads over the parapet. Defiance, fury, terror. Exhilaration. I stood there and panted, drawing oxygen into my burning lungs. 

I was _alive._

A heat-haze shimmered over Usreyth’s corpse. As I stared, eyes narrowed, the body erupted into flames, hot red fire blossoming along the length of his corpse. A soft, white-gold glow rose from the burning flesh. What the fuck? I staggered back, fear coalescing into a single hard spike in my stomach.

The light flared so bright the suit’s visual system had to compensate. I squinted through the glare, stubbornly determined to see what was happening even if it blinded me.

Usreyth’s body was being eaten away. The light wasn’t just covering him, it was _coming_ from him, flesh turning to fire which turned to light which…

…oh my God, it was streaming toward _me…_

I tried to get out of the way. The light moved with me. The light went _into_ me.

I was rooted to the spot, held immobile, as terror gave way to the purest feeling of elation I’d ever experienced. I felt powerful, strong, as if I could do anything. People would cower at my feet just to experience my glory. It was incredible. I was a god, and they would worship me –

“Tony!”

A familiar yelling voice broke my fevered train of thought. I shook my head to clear it, failed, tried again.

“What the…” 

The light was gone. All that remained of the dragon was an enormous skull and gigantic bones, pristine despite the thick, oily smoke roiling over the town. What the hell had just happened? I stared down at the katana in my hand. My visor was smeared with something – blood or smoke, I honestly couldn’t tell at this point – so I deactivated the helmet, letting the nanites stream back into the central housing unit of the ARC reactor. Another command, and the sword dissolved too.

“Tony!”

That voice again. I turned just as hands grabbed my shoulders.

“Are you alright?”

Stephen. Nothing had changed about his appearance. Same blue tunic and pants, same scarlet Cloak of Levitation, billowing dramatically around him. And yet everything had changed about my perception of him; or at least, the way I was able to handle my attraction to him. Because seeing his face – grey eyes wide, lips parted in concern – triggered something deep and primal inside me; the need to own, to possess, to stake my claim. To let the world know that this man of power belonged to _me_ and me alone.

My hand shot out, gripping the back of his neck and yanking his face down. I kissed him before he had a chance to react, pushing my tongue past his teeth, briefly sucking his lower lip into my mouth. His startled moan was everything I wanted to hear.

He tried to pull away. I wouldn’t allow it. My grip on his neck tightened even as I slowed the kiss, gentled it, coaxing now rather than demanding. Showing him a hint of what he could have. I heard the ripple and flip of the Cloak.

But as we settled into the kiss, tongues slowly sliding over each other, the rough scrape of his contoured beard against the bare sections of my cheeks, that sense of complete confidence began to trickle away. The elation – the power – the sense of my own self-importance. My own self- _worth._ I faltered, unresponsive as Stephen’s mouth chased my own. 

_What the hell are you doing?_

I let him go, stumbling back, eyes wide and wild. The Cloak rippled toward me, still attached to Stephen’s shoulders yet stretching to reach me. Stephen looked… God, he looked stunned, and I’d never seen that look on his face. His tunic and pants were tattered. And there was a… what the _fuck_ was that? A tentacle? He had a dark green, black-ichor dripping, severed _tentacle_ the width of my arm wrapped his calf?

“What’s happening to me?” I croaked, bewildered. Nothing made sense anymore. Usreyth, Salamanca, my own actions. I couldn’t even _begin_ to process where the fuck he’d found a… a…. tentacle.

Stephen’s face tightened for a second, as if he was in pain, before smoothing out. I wondered if I’d imagined it.

“You killed the dragon,” he said, his voice gentle. “You saved the town. You saved a lot of people.”

I turned to stare at the bones, taking in the huge, empty eye sockets. Each bone seemed bleached, glowing against the backdrop of smoke.

“There was… light?” I asked, uncertain now whether I could trust my memories. Whether I could trust anything about myself. There was nothing inside but a mess of confusion, as black and roiling as the smoke.

“Come back with me,” Stephen coaxed, hands moving as he opened a portal beside him. The Cloak seemed to strain toward me again. “We’ll talk about it in a safe place.”

I hesitated. I should… I don’t know, stay here, help. I felt as if I should be helping. 

A face floated across my mind. A boy. A teenager. Someone I cared about.

“ _Peter,_ ” I said, dragging a hand down my face. The bruises across my jaw complained, and I winced, but the pain seemed to clear some of the fog away – clarity came rolling back, driving away a little of the confusion. “Shit, I gotta find…”

_I kissed Stephen._

Nope, that hadn’t happened, just my stupid head throwing up something else to confuse me.

_I kissed Stephen._

That was wrong. Had to be wrong. So why was his scent in my nose? Why did my lips feel swollen? Why…

_I kissed Stephen._

Oh, shit.

He stepped closer toward me, hands outstretched, but I backed away. No. I couldn’t accept the evidence of my own memories. There were too many other things going on right now.

“We’ll find Peter,” he said, his voice still soothing. Did he think I was a skittish horse? That I was going to bolt if he got too close? But even as I had the thought, I was commanding the suit’s helmet to re-form. I was stepping back. Putting space between us. I had no clear plan of action other than looking for my kid. After that… finding survivors, putting the fires out…

“Tony, stop.” Stephen moved closer. The Cloak rippled yet again, stretching toward me.

It was too much. Still riding the adrenaline train, my fight-or-flight instincts – confused all to hell, unable to differentiate anymore between who was a threat and who wasn’t – kicked in. 

I turned and took a running jump, foot and palm thrusters activating, and soared off into the thin grey dawn.


	10. 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony returns to the Compound and passes out. While unconscious he experiences a psychic bond, a warning, from Alduin.

“I’m not sure that was a wise thing to do,” F.R.I.D.A.Y said.

“Gonna have to be a bit more specific than that,” I grunted. I just could not get my head around what the fuck had happened.

“I believe Stephen is trying to help you.” She paused a moment. “He’s also following. And Director Fury is calling.”

“Voicemail,” I said without thinking, then checked the HUD. The text tag identified the blip on the screen as Stephen. He kept a constant pace behind me. I tried to ignore him – tried to focus on my task – but I was struggling to remember what that task was.

_Peter,_ I thought. _I gotta find Peter. I gotta… put the fires out… and…_

“Oh, God,” I groaned. I felt as if I was coming apart, a little bit at a time. _Magic._ Something magic had happened right next to me. Had happened _to_ me. Was I in a dream? A nightmare? Another one of Wanda’s witchy little fear-bombs?

“Boss, you’re physically injured. And your mental patterns are all over the place.” F.R.I.D.A.Y’s voice was unexpectedly firm. “I’m taking you home.”

“No!” Of that, I was completely certain. I had things to do. Couldn’t quit the battlefield yet. I…

“Activating the ‘Home’ function.”

“ _No!_ Override! Override, goddamit!” 

“I’m programmed to ignore that command if I believe your mental well-being is at risk.” Her tone was brisk, business-like, and I hated her for it. Hated _myself_ for giving her that fucking programming. “If you need reminding, it was something you gave me after you created Ultron.”

I let out a wordless growl of frustration. She was right, and I hated her even more for that.

“Alright,” I grunted, giving in to the inevitable. “At least tell me Petey’s OK.”

“Peter’s doing fine.” Her tone was soothing now. “I’ve been reviewing the visual feed from his suit. He’s rescued a great many people.”

That was my kid. Always trying to do the right thing.

“He’s not hurt?”

“The readings tell me he’s at optimal health levels. Though you may want to tell him he needs a shower, I’m reading extreme levels of sweat.”

I rolled my eyes, grateful for the distraction from my chaotic thoughts but at the same time resenting it.

“He’s a teenager,” I said. “They’re basically walking bags of hormones until they’re like, twenty-five or something.” _Focus on him. Don’t think ‘bout what just happened._ “Patch me through.”

F.R.I.D.A.Y made an agreeable humming noise. The next voice I heard was Peter’s.

“Tony? Are you alright? Where are you? I saw the dragon falling out of the sky, but I couldn’t see you, and I got worried but I couldn’t do anything because I had to get this old lady out of a retirement home, she wouldn’t _move_ even though the rec room was on fire and –”

“Kid!” I barked. He sounded anxious, his words tumbling over each other. “Slow down!

He drew a slow, audible breath.

“Bottom line? Old ladies suck,” he said. “Tell me you’re OK.”

“Um…” Simple question, hard answer. “I’m gonna go with ‘yes’, but I’m kind of being benched right now.”

“What?” His tone sharpened. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, what does that mean?”

“Don’t answer that!”

“Tony, come on. This is me! You don’t need to hide stuff –”

“I’m not telling you anything ‘cause I don’t know _what_ to tell you,” I growled. That, at least, I could be completely truthful about.

“Is Doctor Strange here?”

“Yeah.” I glanced at the HUD. The blip was still there, still keeping pace a distance behind. “Look, all you need to know right now is that Usreyth’s dead –”

“Wait, what? You mean the dragon? It’s got a _name?_ How the hell…” His voice trailed off, and I realised he was thinking through the implications of that. 

Way more than I wanted to get into right now.

“Later,” I said, determined that ‘later’ would be, like, fifty years from now. “Tell F.R.I.D.A.Y when you’re ready to go home. She’ll send a jet to come pick you up.”

He didn’t speak for a few seconds. “There’s still a rescue effort going on. I have to help with that. And the fires…”

“Maybe you’ll get lucky and Stephen’ll make it rain or something,” I muttered. “Proud of you, kid.” I cut the connection.

~~&~~

F.R.I.D.A.Y took me home. Stephen followed the whole way. He was a persistent bastard, I’d give him that. It wasn’t a long flight, but it was longer than I wanted; it gave me time to think (or at least some approximation of thoughts). Emotions and feelings ran around my brain. I didn’t want that. I just wanted to be numb.

“Fury’s on the line again.”

“Voicemail.” My thoughts were drifting again, chaotic little bits of flotsam and jetsam.

The light –

No.

The fire –

No.

The kiss –

_God,_ no.

The light –

They kept circling around and around. I couldn’t block them out, could barely evade them, bouncing from one to the next. It was exhausting. I’d have to face up to this reality eventually – _whatever¬_ this fucking reality was – but I wasn’t ready and doubted I ever would be. 

I got into the compound on autopilot. Disassembled the suit on autopilot, watching as the nanites streamed back into the ARC reactor stuck to my tank top. Took a single step, grunted in pain, and tumbled to the floor.

A portal opened up down the hall. Stephen strode though, the Cloak billowing behind him, the tentacle still wrapped around his calf. Something about that fucking tentacle got my back up, but I was drowning under too many other emotions to do more than acknowledge the feeling.

I clutched my wrecked leg, wishing I’d at least taken the time to grab a pair of jeans before haring off into the dawn. But no, I had to go into battle wearing a tank, sleep shorts and nasty socks, and now here I was, writhing on the floor and gripping the gaping, bloody wounds on my leg. My socks and shorts were already soaked with blood. I’d known I hadn’t escaped Usreyth’s bite so easily. Small grace: - the suit had mitigated the wounds and provided immediate triage by stopping me bleeding out. There were other pains, way more than I could track, but my leg… yeah, that was the kicker.

“Why do you always have to do things the hard way?” Stephen growled, glaring at my half-hearted attempts to scoot back. “For the love of God, just hold still, unless you want to smear blood up the hall!”

“What can I say?” Pain rolled up my leg, tensing my muscles. Every single fucking bruise throbbed in response. Parts of my torso and arms were burned, the skin red and angry, the ruined vest flapping against my raw skin. “I always was an over-achiever.”

_You kissed him._

I watched, mesmerised, as he let out a hard breath through clenched teeth, muscles working in his jaw. I’d pissed him off with a single sentence. I’d say it was a world record, but sometimes I pissed people off just by walking into the room. It was a talent. A gift. A –

“Tony.” His voice whipped out, accompanied by the click of his fingers in front of my face. He crouched in front of me, the Cloak spread around him, rippling over the metal floor. I blinked, trying to focus. “That’s it, look at me. I need to get you to the medical suite.” His eyes clouded with uncertainty. “You do _have_ a medical suite, right? I’m not going to have to take you to hospital and waste even more time hoping you don’t bleed out?”

I blinked again and kept blinking. My eyes just wouldn’t focus. There were two of him, then three, then only one. The Cloak seemed to have multiple layers. What had he meant by wasting time? Did he think following me had been a waste of time? No, that didn’t feel right. His time was important, he wouldn’t have followed me at all if he thought he was wasting it.

_He’s your friend,_ my sluggish thoughts kicked up. _He’s looking out for you. That’s what friends do._

Then he must mean… I glanced at my leg. The flesh of my calf was mangled, the ragged wounds thick with blood. It was rapidly pooling across the floor. The Cloak lifted its hem away from the spreading mess. Oh, right, bleeding out… _that’s_ what he’d meant by wasting time…

“But friends don’t kiss friends,” I muttered, the words slurred. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y,” he growled, something like panic tinging his voice, “he’s barely lucid. Are there medical facilities here or do I need to portal him to a hospital?”

“The medical suite is connected to his laboratory,” I heard her say. “Projecting holo directions now. And Director Fury is calling.”

“Cut him off,” Stephen growled. 

It was impossible to focus. I tried to sit up, tried to summon the energy to at least lift my head off the metal floor, but there was nothing left. This couldn’t just be blood loss. I’d been in plenty of battles before – more than I wanted to remember – and I’d never felt like this. Usreyth had done something to me. Some… energy… had been released at the point of his death, and he’d _done_ something to me.

Panic flared low and hot in my stomach, rapidly turning into nausea. Bile raced up my throat. I just had the presence of mind to turn my head before I vomited. Thin, steaming liquid exploded out of my mouth. My ribs howled. I tried to curl up on myself. 

Great. Now Stephen had seen me puking my guts out. I’d feel ashamed about that, if I wasn’t so busy hurting.

I felt strong arms under my knees and arms. He picked me up with a grunt of effort, staggered, then righted himself. He was taller than me but I had more muscle. What the fuck was he doing? I panicked again, thrashing in his grip, desperate to get out. To get away. I didn’t care that I was probably doing myself even more damage – maybe even hurting him, too – I just had to get _away._ No idea where. Just… not here. Not where he could see, hear, and feel just how goddamned weak I was.

“Tony… Tony, come on.” There was entreaty in his voice. We were moving and that was bad, I needed to be in control of where we were going. I struggled again.

“Put me… _down…_ ”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, still grunting with effort. Cool fingers brushed over my forehead. I reared away, instinct telling me he was using magic, he was _doing something to me,_ and I couldn’t let that happen. “I’ll ask for your forgiveness when you wake up, but if you don’t _hold still_ I’m going to drop you and God knows, you’re such an over-achiever you’ll probably break your neck!” His voice had turned into a snarl.

I had a few seconds to find his comment wildly – and inappropriately – humorous, before my body went limp. My eyes closed, something cool and restful washing across my mind. I wanted to fight it – _needed_ to fight it – but it felt so relaxing, so comforting, that all I could do was let it carry me down. 

~~&~~

_“I see you, Dovahkiin.”_

I opened my eyes. I was in a… God, where was this? Hills. Mountains, stretching away in the distance, blue-purple and hazy. A valley. The sky was misty grey and seemed to go on forever. There was a building a mile or two further down the valley, made from wood, a vast, impressive Viking-style hall. 

“Uh…” I looked around. “I don’t see you, mysterious voice.”

“ _Look into your heart._ ” The voice was deep and rolling, majestic yet terrifying. Measured and completely controlled. “ _You will see me there._ ”

“Hate to break it to you, buddy, but I was never into the whole naval-gazing thing.” 

I looked down at myself. I was wearing a ragged, blood-streaked tank top and sleep shorts. My socks were wet with blood. Several ragged, gaping wounds ravaged my calf. How had that happened? Why couldn’t I feel any pain? 

“ _Mortals._ ” The voice rolled with contempt. “ _Always so sure of your place in the Multiverse. At least the Nords had the decency to show me their terror._ ”

“You mind quitting with the riddles already?” Maybe I should make for the ye-olde-worlde feasting hall. Squinting, I saw a long, wide bridge leading up to the building. Squinting harder, covering my eyes, it almost looked as if the bridge was made from… bones.

“ _You will learn, Child of Akatosh. You are my brother and together we will burn in the fires of Sovngarde. They will consume you whole, but I will emerge to conquer your world._ ”

The words slammed into my head like a punch. I had no clue what he was saying, but pain spiked between my ears, driving me to my knees. My face felt as if it was going to explode. I screamed – or tried to scream – and blackness covered the valley, not just the blackness of night but a void. 

Or the sweep of a dragon’s wing.


	11. 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Tony wakes up, he struggles to process everything that has happened to him.

When I woke, I knew – with one hundred per cent clarity – that what I’d just experienced had been no dream. No hallucination. Somehow, Alduin had reached across the distance between us to give me a warning.

I wanted to scream again. This was so far beyond my realm of experience, screaming was the only thing I felt I could do with any reliability. 

Instead I reached out, fingers clamping on the nearest thing – which happened to be a blanket, I was in a bed – and bit the cotton.

I ground down with my front teeth, piling on the pressure until my gums hurt and the tendons in my jaw creaked. My nostrils flared, each breath racing out of control. 

Pain lanced up my leg. I groaned through the mouthful of fabric. My ribs joined the show. The bruises throbbed. Added to that were fresh, stinging pains from my burns. One across my belly. Couple across my arms. There were burns across the bruising. 

_Fuck. This. Shit._

I used the pain to ground myself. I was _Tony Stark,_ goddamit. I was alive, I was awake, and I was _pissed._

I spat the blanket out, ripped it away, and stared at the neat bandage wrapped around my leg. The blood-soaked clothes were gone and I was wearing a stupid fucking blue gown. Stephen had made good on his threat to take me to the medical suite, but nothing could make me stay here.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. Pain throbbed through my calf, smacking my ribs like a bowling ball knocking into the pins. OK… so maybe _that_ would make me stay here. For a little while, at least.

Aside from the lab, this was probably the place I’d spent the most time since building the compound, and I was intimately – painfully – acquainted with it. A white, soulless temple to sterility, I’d tricked it out with as much advanced tech as I could buy or build, with a high emphasis on automation. It was designed to deal with wounded Avengers who had neither the time nor the patience to be off their feet. I kept a couple medical professionals on retainer, but so far none of us had called one in. We fought our own battles… and we tended our own wounds.

I looked around the other half-dozen beds. Empty. I was hooked up to a couple different monitors, but the only one I recognised was the heartrate machine, a spiky line zig-zagging across the screen. Probably spiking more than it should. There was a lot more equipment concealed in wall units, built into the floor, and suspended above the ceiling. Right now, it felt like a prison. 

“I’ve alerted Stephen that you’re awake.” F.R.I.D.A.Y’s mellow voice rolled across the suite. 

“Traitor,” I muttered, staring at glass doors as they swung open.

Stephen ran into the room, boots skidding on the metal floor as he grabbed one of the glass doors to stop himself. His eyes met mine. For a few seconds the emotion I saw there – fearful, hopeful – was so terrifying I wrenched my gaze away. I didn’t deserve his concern.

“You decided to join us, then,” he said, clearing his throat. He’d stripped down to his under-tunic, the heavy tunic and Cloak left behind somewhere, and he’d rolled his sleeves up. His long forearms were pale against the royal blue fabric. I noticed flecks of blood – oh my God, _my_ blood – on his skin.

“You _prick,_ ” I snarled, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You used magic to put me under, you –”

“All that stuff with the dragon, and you remember _that?_ ” His frustration was evident. “Great, Tony!” He ran a trembling hand through his hair.

I didn’t answer. _Couldn’t_ answer, because then I’d have to think about what had happened. Acknowledge what had been done to me… and what I’d done to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking down.

I drew a sharp breath. He wasn’t good at apologies. Neither was I, but if he’d made the effort, I had to step up and prove I was just as good.

“Me too,” I mumbled. “Uh, thanks for patching me up. Guess I should have started with that.”

“You going to get back in that bed?” he asked, eyebrows arched in query.

“How ‘bout we just skip the angry argument and we go with ‘no’?”

“Alright.” His mouth worked, and he went to speak, then stopped. “Fury keeps calling.” The way his eyes slid away from mine, the way he shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, felt like this was a delaying tactic. “I told F.R.I.D.A.Y to decline.”

“He keeps that shit up I’m gonna block him,” I grunted. “Now stop stalling and tell me how I’m doing.” 

“The burns are minor,” he said, grimacing and then sighing. “They’ll blister, of course, but they’re treated and dressed. The leg’s not broken but there will be significant scarring. I’d say women dig scars, but…” He held up his hands, the ever-present tremble even more pronounced, showing me the thin, silvery lines running down the back of each finger. 

“Learned to live with ‘em. They’re kind of… badges,” I replied, all traces of anger and resentment fading away. I was so goddamned tired. I wanted to lie back down in that bed, as Stephen had suggested, but there was no way I could do that. “A mark of where you’ve been. That you survived.”

He met my eyes again. This time neither of us looked away.

“What about the scars inside?” he croaked. 

“Harder to put a positive spin on that.” There was no point trying to dress it up. Trauma – physical, mental – had dogged both of our lives, was still following us around, and would probably never leave us alone. “But I spend every day trying to do just that. Now let’s cut all this maudlin, mushy bullshit so you can tell me just what the fuck happened this morning.”

_You kissed him._

_Well geez, stupid brain, thanks so fucking much for throwing that at me every two seconds. You couldn’t chuck me what happened with Usreyth instead?_

My inner monologue had nothing to say to that. Asshole.

Stephen pulled a chair close, sitting with a sigh of relief. He massaged his temples. I realised he was exhausted. Then he lifted his face again, and it was gone. But I knew what I’d seen.

“What happened to the tentacle?” I asked, finally noticing it was gone. 

He let out a tired breath. Something flitted across his face – something wary, perhaps – but it was there and gone before I could identify it. 

“Incinerated,” he replied. At my raised eyebrow, he shrugged. “Well, I kicked the crap out of it and blasted it with a fireball, but still.”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say… not an octopus.”

“Try a giant, one-eyed octopus demon,” he explained. “It’s why I couldn’t join you earlier. I was trying not to get my head ripped off.” That look crossed his face again. Fleeting guilt, perhaps. I put it down to exhaustion.

“And here was me thinking maybe you were getting your cuticles done,” I drawled.

He snorted. I liked that I’d been able to make him laugh. The conversation was about to get shitty, and I think we both needed something light to hold on to. 

“The basic answer of what happened this morning,” he said, “is that when you killed the dragon, you absorbed its soul.”

_Usreyth, his name was Usreyth –_

I blinked. “You’re gonna have to break it down for me. Like, really teeny tiny words.” He gave me a long, measured look.

_Don’t mention the kiss. Don’t mention the kiss. Don’t –_

“Magic, Tony. Lots and lots of magic.”

~~&~~

I could (probably) walk on my injured leg. It was going to hurt, but then so did my ribs. So did my face. My torso. My arms. Come to think of it, my back was kinda achy, too. All I needed now was a toothache and I’d have a full house. Yay, me.

“Shower, change of clothes, food,” I muttered, sliding cautiously out of bed. A quick, fumbling check with one hand proved the hospital gown was an all-around job, not a fasten-at-the-back, ass-out kind of thing. That was one less thing to worry about.

“Tony…” Stephen’s tone was warning. “You should stay in bed.”

I ignored him. We’d been over this already.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, how’s the Pop-Tart situation?”

“Running low, boss. Fury called again.”

“‘Cause I don’t have enough problems…”

“Are you even listening to me?” Stephen demanded. Clearly, I was not, so he changed tack. “Pop-Tarts?”

“Can’t cook, won’t cook. Seriously,” I added as he scoffed, “I set the kitchen on fire a couple times. No one’ll let me near a stove anymore.”

“You created the Iron Man suits.” His incredulity would have been amusing if I wasn’t so worried about how much my leg was going to hurt when I tried to stand. “And you’re telling me you can’t cook?”

“Oh, and I suppose _you_ can.” I stood up, teeth gritted as pain radiated up my leg. Stephen moved close, getting an arm around my torso. I put my arm around his shoulders without thinking. The movement stretched my burns, but the contact was… good. The warmth of another living being, physical contact… yeah, it had been a while since I’d felt either of those things. And he smelt good: - a touch of sweat, a touch of spice. Exotic. Interesting. I wasn’t just glad the hospital gown had a closed back, I was grateful.

_You kiss –_

_Ah, shut up._

“Of course I can cook.” His condescension brought an answering sneer to my face. “Not burning eggs is a lot easier than not leaving someone paralysed during brain surgery.”

“So you won’t mind cooking breakfast, then.”

He laughed, and I smiled, enjoying the sound. “I walked into that, didn’t I?” He hesitated. “Are you OK to go through a portal?”

It was my turn to hesitate. That he’d asked – rather than just gone ahead and cracked a portal open, after everything that had happened over the last couple hours – was important. I understood why he’d used magic to put me under, understood that it was born of concern and panic. I appreciated his apology. 

“Sure,” I said, wondering if I was about to prove myself a liar. 

He stretched out a hand. A portal opened on the wall in a shower of orange sparks. 

I looked though. My bedroom was on the other side. Familiar bed – rumpled from where I’d left it hours ago. Same walk-in wardrobe, the door left half-open where I’d forgotten to close it. Same bland beige curtains. I felt nothing.

“OK?” he murmured.

A nod was my only answer. So… maybe I felt _something._ A shiver of unease. But a portal was just a door, goddamit, and I wasn’t about to let myself freak out over _that._

We moved forward, Stephen supporting me. I needed a crutch. The portal loomed closer.   
Then we were passing through. 

It felt… perfectly normal. 

_It’s just a door. When is a door not a door? When it’s a magic portal._

Jesus. I hadn’t even taken pain meds yet, and I was already kinda loopy.

I felt tension radiating through Stephen’s body. As he helped me across the room, his tension eased, and so did mine. Something unknotted inside me. For all that our friendship seemed spiky at times, he _was_ my friend.

_And you kissed him._

Oh, for the love of _God._ Seemed there was no way I could avoid thinking about it, even after everything else that had happened. Parts of this morning were a little hazy, but I remembered _that_ with crystal clarity. Remembered it so well I was in danger of getting a hard-on in the middle of my bedroom floor, despite the way my leg hurt. Given I was only wearing the gown, there was no way I could hide that. But if I didn’t think about the kiss, that meant I had to think about the dragon. And… the dragon’s soul.

_Usreyth’s soul._

My dick wilted before it had done more than twitch.

He eased me down onto the bed. For a moment our faces were close. I felt a ghost of the emotions I’d felt this morning; the sense of power, the dominance, the need to possess. That wasn’t me. 

Stephen’s eyes darkened. He licked his lips.

I turned my face away. I couldn’t deal with that now, even though it was a massive elephant in the room. There were too many other things going on. 

“Are these waterproof dressings?” I asked, more for something to say than because I was capable of rational conversation.

“Yes.” He cleared his throat and turned away, fingers twitching as he waved at the still-open portal. The medical suite blurred. Turned dark. Resolved into the kitchen. “Tell F.R.I.D.A.Y when you’re ready, I’ll open this again.”

He strode through. The portal collapsed. 

I was alone.


	12. 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen explains to him that when he killed the dragon, he absorbed his soul – something that makes him Dragonborn. Tony struggles to accept his new reality. Stephen persuades him to talk to Arngeir, the man who came through the portal.

“God,” I muttered, dragging both hands down my face. 

“Do you need assistance, boss?”

“I don’t know what I need.” That was the honest truth. I eased myself up, testing my weight again. Yup, my leg still hurt. Because I’d somehow expected it to _stop_ hurting in the couple of minutes since I’d last tested it. “Get DUM-E to bring me up a crutch or something?”

“Sure thing.”

I hobbled into the bathroom and rummaged through the medicine cabinet for a bottle of Tylenol. I shook two white pills into my hand, stared at them, and added a third. I washed them down with a gulp of water from the faucet. 

I eased the surgical gown off and stared at my butt naked reflection in the full-length mirror. A guy in his late forties. A little muscle. Bruises… a _lot_ of bruises. Scars. Burns, blisters, whatever, mercifully covered up under dressings. Streaks of dried blood. My hair was a mess, all over the place. The look in my eyes –

I turned away. I didn’t want to see that, and was sorry Stephen had.

~~&~~

Twenty minutes later I was out of the shower. I dressed in jeans, a sweater, and sneakers, then made my steady way down to the kitchen. DUM-E had brought me a crutch from the medical suite (we could have had fucking Narnia tucked away in one of those cupboards, and I wouldn’t have been surprised). Who needed a portal, right? 

“Fury called again,” F.R.I.D.A.Y said. “He’s now called a total of –”

I let out a wordless growl of frustration. “You know what, block him. I’m not his puppet.”

“Blocked.” She sounded satisfied, but I might have been reflecting my own feelings there.

I got to the kitchen under my own steam. It took a while. But it was worth it – the smell that greeted my nose was enough to flood my mouth with saliva. Stephen (still stripped down to his under-tunic, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the Cloak of Levitation making lazy loops over the stone sink) was sliding two plates onto the table. Bacon, pancakes, a little jug of maple syrup… 

“I told you I’d portal you down,” he said, giving me a stern-eyed look.

I eased myself into a chair, leaning the crutch against the table.

“Never was good at taking orders,” I grunted. “There’s tea, if you want some. That loose-leaf shit you like.” I’d never tell him I’d bought it specifically for him. I tugged the plate closer and reached for the fork. “This smells fucking perfect, by the way.”

I glanced up in time to see him blush. That was new. I wondered if he would…

_For God’s sake, get your mind away from that. Dragon. Dragon. Dragon._

_Usreyth! His name was Usreyth!_

And I flipped back to thinking about Stephen again. This constant ping-pong of emotions was exhausting.

“I also knock up a mean lamb ragu.” 

“Why, Doctor Strange.” I gave him a sideways glance. “That almost sounds like you’re inviting me for dinner.”

_Will you_ stop?

“How about we discuss this later?” His features tightened, the muscles in his jaw flexing. “After we’ve talked about the dragon?”

“His name was Usreyth.” The words were out before I could stop them, a verbalised echo of the mess in my head. “He spoke to me. Told me his name.” I laughed. It was just the wrong side of hysterical.

The humour we’d built between us disappeared. The warmth vanished. I stabbed my fork into the bacon and started eating.

~~&~~

“Alright,” I said later, when both our plates were clear. Stephen was sipping tea from a china cup, but I was – and always would be – a coffee man. “Give it to me straight. Got my big-boy pants on now, I can take it.”

I glanced mournfully at the space where the pancakes had been. The Tylenol had kicked in and though I was still in pain, it wasn’t enough to distract. The food had cleared my head enough that I didn’t keep flicking back to how it felt to kiss… and fuck it, there I went again.   
Stephen leaned back in his seat, giving me a long, assessing look before he spoke. He was good at keeping secrets; I knew that. Maybe he was deciding how much he could tell me. Or how much I could handle?

“I’m not going to freak out,” I said quietly. “Tell me everything. Not just what you think I need to know, or what you think I can cope with.”

His eyes flicked away from mine. Yeah. That was _exactly_ what he’d been thinking.

“I’ve been speaking with the man from Nirn,” he said, looking back at me again. “His name is Arngeir. His country is Skyrim, his people, the Nords.” He rubbed his chin, fingers trembling. “He keeps drifting in and out of consciousness, but the little he’s been able to tell me is…” He shook his head. “Frankly, it’s terrifying.”

My stomach churned. Of us all (apart from maybe Thor), Stephen had seen the most. He’d been places, fought creatures, that would make your average superhero wet his pants. The way he’d just casually dismissed the tentacle-thing… if _he_ was terrified… 

“You’re really selling it,” I said dryly. 

His eyes clouded, darkening to storm-grey. “I tried to shield you from this. Now, I can’t.”

I stared, barely blinking. When he’d taken Arngeir and gone back to Kamar-Taj, I’d thought he was shutting me out. But he’d been trying to protect me.

I liked that. I liked that a lot.

“No,” I rasped. “You can’t. Not anymore.”

“Arngeir’s world is full of legends and monsters,” he said, “where magic is commonplace and wars are worn by sword and fireball. He explained that dragons were created by a being of power. A creature he called a god. These dragons, these so-called Children of Akatosh –”

“Wait, wait,” I interrupted, waving a hand. “Did you say _Akatosh?_ ”

“You’ve heard the name.” He phrased it as a statement, not a question, and he didn’t look surprised.

“Yeah.” The… vision, or whatever it was… was still fresh in my head. “We’ll get to that in a minute. Keep talking.”

He gave me a dark, brooding look, lips thinned. I matched his stare with one of my own. He blinked first.

“Akatosh also had human children,” he continued. He was sounding more troubled by the second. “Men and women who were said to have his blood and some semblance of his power. _Dovahkiin,_ in their tongue…” 

I flinched.

“…and ‘Dragonborn’ in ours. You’ve heard that word before, too, haven’t you?”

“He had kids,” I said, not acknowledging his question. My voice came through numb lips. “You’re saying I’m related to this guy?” Hysteria rose like a volcanic plume inside me. Hysteria and panic. My own sense of self-awareness –that I knew _who_ I was, _what_ I was – shifted, like someone pulling the rug out from under me. “Am I human?”

“Tony –”

I grabbed his bare arms, fingers digging into his skin. “ _Am I a fucking human being, Stephen?_ Am I, am I an alien or, God only knows…” My voice dried up, drowning under a wave of horror. Richard Montgomery and the Pure Human group already hated my ass; if they found out about _this –_

“You’re as human as me!” Stephen’s sharp-toned words dug through the panic fogging my brain.

“You sure about that?” Despite my earlier conviction that I wasn’t going to freak out, I was right on the edge of a meltdown. My cheeks were hot, my palms sweating, the pressure behind my eyes threatening to turn into a headache… or a scream. 

_Please God, don’t let me start screaming._

“I’m as sure as I can be.” His voice was quiet but firm. “Your parents were human. Their parents were human. This thing you have, this legacy of Akatosh’s blood, it’s no more than a genetic marker. A single location on your DNA that allows you to access levels of energy that other people can’t reach.”

I stared at him, uncertain. Breathing hard. I _wanted_ to believe… 

Finally realising I’d grabbed hold of his arms I let go, jerking back as if I’d been scalded. My fingertips left red marks.

“Promise?” I didn’t even care that the entreaty made me sound like a fucking five year old. 

“Promise.” His eyes were solemn. “I won’t lie to you.”

I felt myself shudder, adrenaline draining out of my system like water from a leaking bucket. I chose to believe him because if he _was_ lying – if I was… something else… my brain couldn’t take it.

“How did it happen?” I struggled to control my breathing. If I could just get that under control, maybe this whole shit-storm wouldn’t seem so bad. “How did this… gene… get from Nirn to Earth?”

“The same way Alduin travelled between the realms, I would imagine. The Multiverse is a vast place, larger than any one mind can comprehend, and there are humans – or people very much like humans – in many dimensions. I doubt you’re the only Dragonborn. Though you may be the only one on Earth.”

“You’re saying my great-great-somethings came from Nirn.” _Aliens for ancestors. Aliens for ancestors. Aliens for –_

“One of them came from Nirn, yes. But the gene was only activated in the presence of dragons.” His voice dropped. “You’re not an alien,” he said, holding my eyes. “You’re not a monster, or a demon, or anything your mind is conjuring up right now. I _promise_ you that. You’re human.”

“I’m Tony fucking Stark,” I croaked, then laughed. It was a painful sound, still riding the edge of hysteria, and I made a mental note not to laugh again until I could get my shit under control. “Look, the reason I recognised those words… Akatosh and, you know, whatever… I had a, a dream or vision or something. Only it wasn’t a dream, it was a…” The words dried up. “Communication,” I spat out, shaking my head. “A warning.” The images, the words, were etched on my brain. “Alduin called me his brother, a Child of Akatosh, something about Sovngarde –” 

The colour drained from Stephen’s face, breaking me off mid-sentence.

“What is that?” I demanded. “What does that mean?”

“A version of the afterlife,” he croaked. 

“So he was basically trash-talking, right? Like a ‘see you in Hell, not unless I see you first’ kind of thing?” Why did I get the feeling I was just clutching at straws here?

“Uh… no. Sovngarde exists.” 

“Alright, rewind.” Too much. This was way too much. But I had to get through it, somehow, had to find out everything I could. “Tell me what this Dragonborn shit means.”

“They exist as a counter-balance.” If he’d sounded troubled before, he sounded outright anxious now. “The dragon you killed had already died once before –”

“Usreyth.” I didn’t understand why it was so important to speak his name, but it was important. He’d been a living, breathing – entity or… zombie or… Christ, I don’t know what. Maybe it was because I’d absorbed some part of him?

“Usreyth,” Stephen acknowledged with a nod. “And his kind. Alduin has the power to raise them. As Dragonborn, you, and others like you across the Multiverse, have the power to put them down for good. Kill the body. Take the soul. End the threat.”

I stared at the table. The only way I could get through this was to basically take myself out of the equation, to imagine it was happening to someone else. Then I could think through what Stephen had just told me and, more importantly, consider the implications. And the consequences. 

He didn’t speak. Didn’t interrupt. Just let me think.

“You said ‘raise them from the dead’.” Zombie dragons, Jesus fucking Christ. “You also said they’re not native to this world. Dimension, Universe, whatever,” I added, waving a dismissive hand as he opened his mouth to correct me. “That means somehow, they got from there to here. Then they died.”

“Correct.” He nodded. “They came here thousands of years ago, the same way Alduin did, though I have no idea how many came through. They’re the basis of our own legends.”

I winced. “Saint George?”

“Really did kill a dragon.”

I thought a little bit more, drawing doodles on the table top with the tip of my finger.

“What did you mean when you said ‘take the soul’? Souls are a thing now?”

“Souls have always been a thing. Every living entity has one. Put your preconceived notions of religion aside, OK?” I nodded. All my notions had already taken a running jump out the window, so hey, why not. “A soul is energy, the energy that defines who and what we are. If you take a dragon’s soul you guarantee it can’t be brought back to life.” He hesitated. “ _You…_ absorbed Usreyth’s soul. His energy.”

_Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Don’t…_

Easier to hold back the sea. Anxiety clawed at my stomach, my chest, tightening my lungs. My hand – still on the table, still drawing shapeless shapes – tightened into claws. I focussed on my fingers, straightening them out one at a time, focussing on nothing else until my hand had relaxed.

“Tony?”

“I’m alright.” I couldn’t look at Stephen, but at least I sounded calm. “Tell me what it means. To, uh, absorb… you know.”

“Energy. It allows you to perform magic. To reach the level of energy required to create a material effect on the world,” he added at my heavy frown. “If I understand Arngeir correctly, the dragon tongue contains words of power –”

“Alduin spoke to me,” I interrupted. “Called me _Dovahkiin._ And a couple other words.”

“He used magic to push you through that building.”

“Is that what _I_ am now?” I finally raised my eyes from the table. “ _I’m…_ magic?”

“You have the ability to access a specific level of energy,” he corrected carefully. “That’s not the same thing.”

“Can I get it out of me? Usreyth’s soul?”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Another apology. I believed what he was telling me… and I believed he was sorry.

“If this is gonna happen again, I need to work on my suit. Find out where the dragons are. Work on a fight plan –”

“You need to speak to Arngeir first.”

“What?”

“You have power. Arngeir can teach you how to use it.”

“No.”

“I appreciate that the idea seems abhorrent to you, but –”

“I said no!” It wasn’t working, I wasn’t able to imagine this was happening to someone else. This was happening to _me_ and I didn’t know how to stop it, _Stephen_ didn’t even know how to stop it –

“At least talk to Arngeir. He almost killed himself to get to our world.”

That took guts. I could appreciate that, if nothing else.

“Alright.”


	13. 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen takes Tony to Kamar-Taj, the first time he’s been there. They talk to Arngeir. The old man gives Tony his knowledge of a dragon Shout, Unrelenting Force.   
> Tony brings up the kiss, letting know Stephen it wasn’t a fluke, wasn’t caused by exposure to magic, and that he is still very much interested.

What I really wanted to do was chug another couple Tylenol and crawl into bed. That wasn’t going to happen. Hard to believe it was barely ten in the morning.

One thing I did acknowledge – had to, because there was no way around it – was that I was in no fit state to go back into combat. Bruises, even burns, I could and had fought in that condition. But the leg? I’d need at least a week, ten days, before it was capable of taking my weight. Tissue damage was a bitch.

“I salvaged the bones, by the way,” Stephen said as he cleared away the plates. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I had bots who could do that. 

“You salvaged the bones.” The words made perfect sense. I just couldn’t figure out what he meant.

“Usreyth’s bones. From Salamanca,” he added, as if he thought I’d somehow forgotten where I’d just killed a dragon. “I didn’t want to just leave them where they were, but I also didn’t want Fury to have them.”

I blinked. I tried to think through the implications of S.H.I.E.L.D getting their hands on dragon bones, but other than Usreyth’s skull mounted over a fireplace, my brain was coming up blank. 

“Uh… good?”

“They may have some magical properties. I need to investigate.” 

“Are they dangerous?”

“I don’t believe so.”

I stared down at the table, through the glass, and to the floor below. Stephen was still doing something with the dishwasher. I tuned out a little.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y,” I said after a few minutes, “how’s Petey doing?” 

“On a jet, boss, on his way back to New York. The fires are under control. The damage to Salamanca was extreme, but he was able to rescue a great many residents.”

“He’s OK?”

“His suit shows he has expended a large amount of energy. He’s currently napping. He was not injured.”

“Good.” That was one weight off my mind. “Keep an eye.” Out of hope rather than any real expectation – and after reminding myself there was more to life right now than dragons – I added, “Any word on Richard Montgomery yet?”

“Nothing.” She sounded apologetic. “He is remaining extremely well hidden.”

“Figures,” I grunted. “Cockroaches always run to the deepest, darkest hole when they’re threatened.”

“Are you ready?” Stephen asked, returning to the table. The over-tunic was back on, locked in place with a million fucking belts, his sleeves presumably rolled down. The Cloak of Levitation settled over his shoulders.

“What, we’re going right now?” At his stern look, I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah, dragon attacks, I get it.” I struggled to my feet. Pain throbbed along my leg. “OK, let’s get this out of the way.”

He opened a portal in the kitchen. Kamar-Taj was dark, though the light from softly-glowing lamps illuminated a wide courtyard and gnarled old trees. Early evening.

I followed Stephen through the orange ring, moving my crutch cautiously over the wide, uneven flagstones. It was cold enough I was glad I’d chosen a sweater after my earlier shower, though a T-shirt underneath would have been even better.

The courtyard was much larger than my first glimpse had suggested. The trees were huge. Massive trunks grew up from wide spaces in the flagstones, long branches heavy with delicate pink flowers twisting across the side of buildings. The scent was rich, exotic without being overpowering.

The buildings that made up the courtyard walls were old. Casting an engineer’s eye over the structures, it was clear they were partly supported by ivy, each branch like a vein against the age-stained bricks. 

Stephen led me to a heavy wooden door. A man and woman were sparring twenty or thirty feet away, each wearing warm, brightly coloured tunics and pants, wielding staffs as if they’d been born with them in their hands.

“Welcome to Kamar-Taj,” he said as we walked. “I would have preferred to invite you here under more auspicious circumstances, but we rarely get to pick a time to act.”

Wait, what? He’d planned to invite me here? I’d always had the impression this place was too special – too secret – to admit an outsider like me. 

Turned out I wasn’t as much of an outsider as I’d thought. I liked that feeling.

“This is beautiful,” I said. “Feels… I don’t know, peaceful?”

“The atmosphere here is specifically designed to encourage learning. If you’re in a mind to learn.”

I gave him a resentful frown, which he either didn’t notice or chose to ignore. Was that a dig at me? That I needed to pay attention to whatever this Arngeir guy had to say?

Then I caught a glimpse of his face as I finally drew level with him. He wasn’t digging at me. Whatever he’d meant by his comment, it had been aimed at himself.

“Am I gonna have to hike halfway across the Himalayas?” I grumbled as he held the door open. I stepped inside, looking up and down a dimly-lit corridor.

“What, you think I’d make a crippled man walk for miles?” His sideways glance was sly.

I looked over my shoulder. “You see a crippled guy here?” Looked over my other shoulder. “Over there, maybe? No?”

“Drama queen.” He rolled his eyes and entered the corridor behind me.

“This from the man wearing blue pants and a red cloak. I’m not the extra one around here.”

“Genius billionaire playboy philanthropist,” he said. “Iron Man suit, protector of humanity, mad scientist… you can’t get more extra than that.”

“Alright, you got me,” I grumbled. “But less of the playboy.” 

He half-turned, giving me a lingering, thoughtful look I wasn’t sure I liked. It occurred to me this was the second time I’d responded this way to the stupid playboy quote. Why the fuck had I done that? Now I was thinking about that goddamned kiss! Yet again! 

…I wondered if he was, too.

But the opportunity for casual conversation _(Hi, I kissed you, I was crazy out of my head but can we do it again)_ vanished as Stephen opened another heavy wooden door just ten feet down from where we’d entered. He stepped inside and beckoned me to follow.

The room was sparse. A bed, a little table, a simple chair. I recognised the worn, weathered face of Arngeir as he struggled to sit up in bed. The heavy grey robes were gone and he was wearing simple black pyjamas.

Stephen tugged the chair closer to the bed, then gestured for me to sit. I didn’t like being told what to do. On the other hand, my leg was throbbing, and sitting right now seemed great. I put my pride to one side and dropped heavily into the chair.

“So you’re… Anthony Stark…” Arngeir’s wheezing, rasping voice wavered with exhaustion. His eyes were muddy brown, the whites edged with yellow. His beard was wild and tangled, almost completely grey. It was hard to put an age on him. I was just gonna go with ‘old’.

“Call me Tony,” I said.

His sharp attention made me uncomfortable. Even though his exhaustion was obvious, the strength in his eyes was unmistakable. 

“I will call you… Dragonborn. _Dovahkiin._ ”

I couldn’t hide the way it made me twitch. There it was again, that word. 

“About that.” I rubbed my temples. “ _This_ thing, whatever it is, I don’t want it. Stephen says I…” I hesitated, looking briefly at the Sorcerer Supreme leaning against a wall. “He says I absorbed a dragon’s soul. I don’t want it.”

Arngeir stroked his beard with a trembling hand. His fingers were gnarled, the skin liver-spotted and fragile, but there was nothing fragile about the way he looked at me. I felt the full weight of his age. Of his wisdom. I was being weighed up, measured, judged.

I tried to hide how unworthy that made me feel.

“I have had the honour… of meeting several Dragonborn… in my long life,” he rasped. “Different… yet the same. They welcomed their power.”

“Nobody asked _me_ if I wanted it,” I said bluntly. “All I wanted to do was stop the dragon. Protect people.” _That’s all I ever try to do._

“That is why… you will be… the _best_ Dragonborn.”

Now it wasn’t just judgement shining out of his eyes, it was confidence. And it was fucking terrifying.

“Listen to me,” I said, leaning forward. Fear gripped my stomach in a hard, clenching knot. “ _I don’t want this._ OK? Got that? Is it sinking through all that crazy hair?”

“Tony.” Stephen’s admonishment wasn’t unexpected, but it still hurt. He knew how I felt about this.

“You cannot… rid yourself… of this.” If Arngeir was angry at my outburst, it didn’t show. Maybe he didn’t have the energy for it. “It is part… of you. In your blood.”

“No, you’re wrong, you’re…” I shook my head, trying to deny the obvious, trying to forget that this directly supported what Stephen had already told me.

“It’s in… your blood,” he repeated, the wheeze even more pronounced. “It’s who you are. You are descended… from Akatosh. Even if no… dragons had ever… come to your world…” A long pause while he got his breath back. “…you’d still be Dragonborn.”

“ _No!_ ” I struggled to my feet, out of the chair, ignoring the crutch as I turned my back on him and lurched toward the door. I couldn’t believe him. Didn’t _want_ to believe him.

“You are a being… of magic.” His voice pushed through the panic rising behind my eyes. “You are special.”

I stopped, hands on hips, staring at the floor. I laughed. It bordered on the edge of hysteria again, just as it had back in the kitchen, but this time the sudden burst of released energy helped ground me.

“Always knew I was special,” I croaked. “Just not like this.”

“We do not have… the power to choose… our destiny.” Arngeir’s tone took on an urgent quality. “But we _do_ have… the power to… shape it. You have a unique gift. Let me teach you.”

I looked up, meeting Stephen’s eyes. His face was shuttered. Whatever he was feeling, he was keeping it locked down tight. That told me one thing loud and clear – there was a call to make, here, and he’d respect whatever choice I made. He didn’t want whatever showed on his face to influence my decision.

Thoughtful, _considerate_ asshole. 

I shuffled back to the seat, dropping with a stifled grunt of pain as I took the weight off my leg. I looked at the floor. The worn wooden boards. The cracks and whorls. 

I could use magic. _I_ could use _magic._ I didn’t want it, didn’t need it… except maybe… I _did_ need it? I’d killed Usreyth, but I hadn’t come out of that fight unscathed. And it was going to take time to heal up. If I went against Alduin again… I needed more in my arsenal than I had right now. I could beef up my suit, add more weapons, but I kept flashing back to the way he’d just casually blasted me through a building. 

If Arngeir showed me how to use this… gift… this – this _magic_ – I’d have an extra weapon.

_You wouldn’t be vulnerable again,_ my mind kicked up. _Someone takes out your suit, you still have a weapon. And if they come at you with magic, you can finally hit back._

_You can protect yourself. You can protect others._

When I thought about it like that, it was a no-brainer. I had to do this. In fact I’d be mad _not_ to do this.

“Alright, Yoda,” I said. I didn’t even have to look at Stephen to know he’d be rolling his eyes. “Teach me.”

“There is… much… lore… I can impart...” Arngeir’s voice was wavering even more now, the spaces between word clusters filled with long, laboured breaths. He was flagging. “We must… begin… preparations to… deal with Alduin. But… move back, Dragonborn, I have a gift…”

“You’re not Greek, are you?”

His questioning look said more than his struggling words. 

“It’s a saying on my world.” I waved a hand, wishing I’d just kept my mouth shut. He didn’t have the energy for this. “Bunch of people in olden times, they rocked up to this city with a huge wooden horse as a gift. Only the horse was stuffed with soldiers. Soon as they got inside the city, out they popped. Beware of Greeks bearing gifts.”

His cracked old lips parted in a grin, making his beard twitch. “We have… a similar saying. Beware the Khajiit… with the open paw.”

“Paw?” I shook my head. “No, don’t tell me. Information overload. You don’t wanna know how long it took me to get my brain around the idea that aliens were real. This ‘other dimensions’ thing is trippy.”

“Move…back...” His eyes were bright, despite the way his body slumped. Good to know _someone_ appreciated my humour.

I stood up again, getting the crutch under me before I put weight on my duff leg. 

“Over here far enough?” I put a couple feet between us.

“Further. The wall should suffice.”

“Apparently someone _does_ put Tony in the corner,” I muttered, shuffling further away. I glowered at Stephen’s smirk. “What? I can’t hog the spotlight all the way over here.”

“Oh, trust me,” he drawled, “you hog the spotlight _wherever_ you are.”

“You say the sweetest things.” My smile was sour. I reached up to give his cheek a hard pat before I turned away. Give him his due, he didn’t flinch. “Alright, Arngeir. Lay it on me.”

“You can… project your… voice… into a spell,” the old man explained. “A _Thu’um_ , or Shout. You channel… your will into… three Words of Power.” His sucking breaths were becoming painful to hear. “You shape the world.”

“Wait, what?” I frowned, thinking it through. “So you’re saying dragon warfare is basically a really loud argument?”

“In essence…”

“Alright,” I said, a little wary. Note to self: - learn the Shout that meant ‘fuck off out of my dimension’.

“I belong to… the Greybeards,” he said, without a trace of irony. “We dedicate our lives… to studying… the Thu’um. We can learn only… one word… of a Shout.”

“Hang on, I thought only Dragonborn could use this Shout thing?” My head was spinning.

“Only a Dragonborn… can wield the _full_ power…” he corrected. “You have a limitless capacity…” He was running on dregs here. Whatever he was about to do, we had to speed things up. “I have one… word. Knowing I would… be… instructing you, I absorbed knowledge of two more… from my brethren. I gift… this to you…”

“OK,” I said, wary again, shifting my weight to ease the pain in my leg.

He waved a hand. Three huge runes appeared on the stone floor, glowing like embers. I recoiled. 

“Step forward. Own the words. Absorb them…. _know them._ ”

“Uh, how about I just wait till the movie comes out? No…?” I let out a hard puff of air, cracked my knuckles, and crutched across the room.

I stood on the middle rune. Nothing happened. I waited, counting the seconds –

White-gold light roared up around me. I tried to move, terror pounding through my system, but I was rooted to the spot. A deep, growling voice echoed through my head.

_Fus._ Force.

_Ro._ Balance.

_Dah._ Push.

I screamed in the silence of my head. _This_ was the magic Alduin had used on me, the fucking _Shout_ he’d used to knock me through a wall. The words ripped through my brain, lodging deep inside, until I felt as if I was drowning in the light. I didn’t just know them. I knew what they _meant;_ I understood how to use them, what they did, the way I could just direct my will through those words…

The light vanished. The runes on the floor had disappeared. 

My knees buckled. I dropped hard onto the stone floor. Pain shot through my shins and rippled along my bad leg. I bit back a yell of pain.

I felt hands on my shoulders. I let Stephen help me stand, then hobbled over to the chair. Pride be damned. 

“Thanks,” I murmured.

“How do you feel?”

I liked that he didn’t say _are you OK?_ It was pretty fucking obvious I wasn’t. 

“I feel…” I closed my eyes, chasing the ghost of what I’d just experienced. I opened my eyes again. “Tingly.”

A startled bark of laughter exploded out of his mouth, making me smile. 

“Not what I expected to hear,” he said.

“Actually, I feel pretty normal,” I admitted. “Just, ya know, a bit wiser. Knowledge is power and all that crap.”

“In your case,” Arngeir said, drawing our attention back to him, “power is knowledge… the two are linked. I have given you… my understanding of –”

“Unrelenting Force,” I interrupted. “Force. Balance. Push. AKA, how to push a bitch through a wall.” 

“Practise your Shout… test your limits. But be cautious.” His lips lifted in a thin smile. “People worry when… you knock their house down.”

“ _You_ knocked someone’s house down?” I couldn’t believe that.

“I was young once.”

~~&~~

Arngeir was still exhausted from his trip through dimensions, and wouldn’t even have enough strength to get out of bed for a little while yet.

“Home,” Stephen said, holding the door open as I crutched out of the room. “I know you want to race off and start Shouting at things, but you can barely stand. Take a couple days.”

“You were the one who wanted me to race over here,” I grumbled as we made our way down the corridor. He waved; the door to the courtyard opened. “There’s no way of knowing when the next dragon attack will be. I _can’t_ take a couple days. And I’ve still got the LMD fragments to investigate.” I needed to find out how Richard Montgomery had fucked with my nanite cohesion field. “ _And_ a terrorist to hunt down.”

“Jesus, do you ever stop?” 

“I’m a regular old Energiser Bunny. I go ‘til I drop.” It would be funny if it wasn’t true. I winked, taken aback as he blushed. Twice in one day? Wow.

A little pink looked good on his pale face.

_Just like when you kissed him._

Yeah. Wasn’t going to deny that, however much I’d tried not to think about it.

I had to say speak out. I had to acknowledge that something had happened between us. This wasn’t the right time, but God knew there’d probably never _be_ a right time.

“About this morning,” I said, touching his arm to make him stop. He turned and met my eyes; hesitant, uncertain. The door was still a few feet away. We had privacy. “After I absorbed the dragon’s…” _Soul._ “…energy.”

“Look, I’m not sure we should talk about that right now.” He wrenched his gaze way, looking at a point behind me. 

“Why not? We’ve talked about everything else.”

“Honestly, there’s no need –”

“I kissed you, Stephen. The least we can do is acknowledge it happened and decide how we want to move on from that.”

The words hung in the air between us. I couldn’t take them back. I didn’t _want_ to take them back. Now I’d made a decision about the whole dragon thing, it seemed only right that I make a decision about this, too.

“Don’t you think its best if we just forget it happened?” His words hit like a punch, making me flinch. He still wouldn’t look at me. “You were suffering from the after-effects of a massive magical energy transfer, you didn’t know what you were doing –”

“Stop.” I held up a hand. “Look at me. No, come on, look at me.” He dragged his eyes reluctantly to mine. He couldn’t hide the roiling confusion in those grey, stormy depths. “I’ll admit my head was all over the place. But I… I don’t regret what I did.” My shoulders rolled in an awkward shrug. “Been wanting to do that for a long time, truth be told.”

“You – have?” His eyes widened. I think I’d genuinely startled him. 

“You _know_ me, probably better than anyone else. Better even than Rhodey.” Jesus, why had I never talked about this with him before? Because I’d been scared to lose his friendship, that was why. I still wasn’t sure that wouldn’t happen, but this morning had been a turning point. “The things we’ve been through…”

“Tony, I can’t –”

“I’m not asking you to make a decision right now,” I interrupted. “I just… look, I just wanted to get it out there, OK? Let you know I’m interested.” For a split second I wished the ground would open up and swallow me whole. Then a flash of my old confidence returned. “It wasn’t a blip or a mistake. I’m not ashamed of what we did.”

The look in his eyes changed, darkening, becoming more brooding. The muscles around his jaw twitched. 

“You need to go home,” he croaked. “Rest that leg. I’ll let you know when Arngeir has recovered.”

Ouch. That hurt. Still, I couldn’t expect miracles. He’d handled my admission a hell of a lot better than I’d handled the Dragonborn thing. He hadn’t freaked out, hadn’t even given me a flat-out _no._ I just had to be patient.

Ha!


	14. 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Director Fury makes a not unexpected house call, demanding to know what happened at Salamanca. Tony – enraged that Fury has bypassed his security and seemingly disabled F.R.I.D.A.Y – gives him the bare bones. In return, Fury tells him that Usreyth came out of a mound buried deep underground, and that there are a number of other burial mounds around the world.

I wanted to test my new skill (I still shied from the word ‘magic’) as soon as the portal closed behind me, despite Stephen’s plea to take it easy, but my body had its own ideas. So did my mind. I had to take a little time, decompress, or I’d go mad. 

I wasn’t so sure I wasn’t already mad.

“Ever heard of answering the goddamned phone?” Fury snarled.

I’d been looking at the floor, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, but my head flew up when I heard his voice. Nick Fury sat with his arm resting on the glass dining table. As if he had every right to be _in my fucking home_ without an invitation. How the hell had he bypassed my security?

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, honey, why didn’t you tell me we had company?” My fingers hovered over the ARC reactor, a hair’s breadth from going full Iron Man. I didn’t want to fight Fury – the political ramifications of that were already looming on the edge of my consciousness but… _Christ,_ did I want to punch his smug fucking face right now.

F.R.I.D.A.Y didn’t respond.

“Honey?” I said, uncertainty ripping through my stomach as I glared at the intruder. “Dollface? Babycakes?” 

“Your A.I has taken a little nap,” Fury said. “Targeted EMP. So you can still make me a coffee.” The prick, he was throwing my words from yesterday’s debrief back in my face.

“Which I’ll drink from your skull, Cueball. What the hell do you want?” He’d come into my home, disabled my assistant, and still expected to go through the niceties? My hand clenched on the crutch, gripping so hard my fingers hurt. 

Fury shrugged, as if he didn’t give a shit whether I made him coffee or not. That infuriated me even more.

“If you’d just answered the phone I wouldn’t have to be here.” He studied his nails with indifference. 

“If you didn’t keep spamming my line I wouldn’t have had to block you!”

“I want answers, Stark. Salamanca burned to the ground, there’s reports of a dragon,” and his face twisted at the word, “and a fight, but no body. If you killed that monster I want the corpse.”

“Sorry to break it to you, but the body burned up after I put it down.” All that was left of Usreyth was bones. Bones which – right now – were in Stephen’s possession.

He gave me one of his patented hard stares, his single eye trained on my face. I gave him a flat, hostile look in return.

“How about a _quid pro quo?_ ” he asked. “I tell you stuff, you tell me stuff, we all go home happy.”

“I’m already home. And I am very far from happy.” And in desperate need of a chair, but hell would freeze over before I let him see that weakness.

“I can change that.”

“I’m already picturing you walking out the door.” 

“Tell me what you know!” He thumped his fist on the table, the brief attempt at diplomacy gone. 

“Thought you didn’t believe in magic?”

“I’m adaptable.” His tone was sour. “Look, S.H.I.E.L.D has eye-witness reports that tell us exactly where this dragon came from.”

“We had that last time.”

“This one didn’t come out of the sky. It came out of the ground.”

“What?”

“We have cell phone footage of this thing exploding out of the ground. Took out Main Street and half a block on either side. We sent some probes down and guess what we found?”

“Oh, oh, was it a puppy? Tell me it was a puppy.”

His single eye narrowed even further. “No, Stark, it was not a puppy.”

“Well, shucks.” I would have scuffed the floor with my foot, but the pain rippling up and down my leg told me that was a bad idea. If I didn’t sit down soon, I was probably going to drop. I had to get this prick out of my house ASAP.

He rolled his eyes. “We found a grave,” he said. “I’ll send you through the schematics. That monster came out of a burial mound. Now we gotta deal with fucking _zombie dragons._ ”

I didn’t like how his comments mirrored my own previous thoughts. His information did, at least, tie in with what Stephen had told me earlier, about Alduin having the power to raise dragons from the dead. 

But Usreyth hadn’t been a zombie. He’d been living, breathing being, with his own intelligence – however unknowable that might be to me – and his own power. Where he’d come from, he was used to being the apex predator.

If there were more of these things, as Stephen seemed to think (and I was reluctantly beginning to accept) I had a duty to tell Fury what I knew. I had enough on my plate right now with the LMDs and being Dragonborn. Fury had the whole of S.H.I.E.L.D at his disposal. Maybe there _was_ something to this whole quid pro quo thing.

“Alright,” I grunted, crutching awkwardly to the table. I pulled out a chair and sat with a stifled sigh of relief. “I’ll show you mine, you show me yours.”

I have him the Cliff’s Notes version of events. I glossed over most of it – the way absorbing Usreyth’s soul made me feel, for one – and left out the whole ‘I kissed my best friend’ thing. That was nobody’s business but mine and Stephen’s. As to the bones, well, he didn’t need to know they even existed. 

His one good eye widened with every fresh revelation. By the time I’d finished it was round and astonished.

“So you’re magic now?” he asked with a grunt. “Guess it’s time to upgrade your threat level.”

“Aww, I have a threat level,” I said, clasping my hands under my chin. I didn’t bother to correct him, doubting he was willing to understand the distinction between ‘being magic’ and ‘being able to use magic’. “I’m touched.”

“You can do this shit on command?”

“What do you mean, on command? I’m not a trained dog!”

“Right now you’re a weapon.”

Again his words echoed my earlier thoughts, making my stomach clench. I couldn’t think of myself that way. I found Fury’s take on it distasteful… though not unexpected.

“Thought I was already a weapon,” I growled. “Ya know, the whole ‘I am Iron Man’ thing? Maybe you missed that, it’s where I put on this nifty nanite suit –”

“You’re an operator,” he interrupted. “Nothing more. Don’t ever forget that. You can be replaced.”

I stared at him with narrowed eyes, biting the inside of my cheek to hold back my first response. 

“And what you should never forget is without me, that weapon wouldn’t even exist,” I said in my best indoor voice. “There’s a difference between an operator and a creator. I’m a human being, not a robot.” 

“You sure you’re human?”

His words hit hard, again echoing my own earlier insecurities. I tried not to let on how much it hurt, but by the way his eye narrowed as I wrenched my gaze away, he knew he’d scored a blow.

“Doesn’t matter what you think I am,” I said. “All that matters right now is that I’m the only person who can stop Alduin.”

“So you say.”

“So Arngeir says. And since _he’s_ been giving me answers, and you’ve given me shit except some old burial site, I know who I’m gonna believe.”

That rattled his cage, though I think he was trying to hide it. What was he worried about – that I’d start taking orders from Arngeir, rather than paying lip service to S.H.I.E.LD? I was nobody’s puppet. When I acted, it was because I chose to do so, not because I’d been backed into a corner.

Although sometimes, my action was to get myself _out_ of that corner. 

“We can find them,” Fury rushed to say, clearly using the offer as a way of distracting me from his uncontrolled reaction. “The burial mounds? S.H.I.E.L.D can find more. If we know where these things are gonna rise, if we can monitor them, we’ll have an advantage.”

“First piece of sense you’ve said since I got here. Now get the hell out of my house.”

~~&~~

I think I’d really shaken Fury by implying I might follow Arngeir’s lead rather than his own (newsflash – I wasn’t following either’s). He liked to have all his eggs in one basket; that was, he liked to know where his operatives were going to jump before they even thought about moving. I was no one’s operative, and though I appreciated S.H.I.E.L.D’s intel and their work tracking Montgomery, I didn’t answer to them. And it was a real pain in the ass to have to keep reminding them of that. Fury, in particular, thought people were tools to be used and discarded when they broke. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y?” I ventured, when he was gone. “You there?”

“I don’t feel right, boss…”

“Shit.” I crutched out of the kitchen, heading straight for the lab. I didn’t have the energy for this – to the point where I knew I was going to collapse if I didn’t get some rest soon – but this couldn’t wait. “Hold on, honey, Daddy’s gonna come make you feel better.”

I reviewed F.R.I.D.A.Y’s data. Fury hadn’t been lying about the targeted EMP, and with an anger bordering on the hysterical I spent the next couple of hours hacking into S.H.I.E.L.D’s records to find out what, exactly, he’d used. He’d known this would be my response and he’d taken extra steps to keep me out, but hell hath no fury like a mad scientist when he figures out someone’s had his nose where he shouldn’t. 

Once I was past his wards, it was easy enough to find the tech file. I took what I needed and, as an appropriate act of vengeance, uploaded a file that would lock Fury out of his own system. Next time he tried to log on – wherever he was, from whatever terminal or device – he’d get that lock-screen from the first Jurassic Park movie, the one where Denis Nedry (the tech guy who’d tried to sell dino embryos to InGen’s rivals) had locked a young Samuel L. Jackson out of the park’s servers. 

Knowing I was basically running on fumes by this point, I took the time to build shielding around F.R.I.D.A.Y’s physical housing. Next time he tried to pull that kind of shit on the Avengers’ Compound, he’d be shit out of luck.

I crutched back to the kitchen. It took three times as long as it should. I fixed a coffee, grabbed a sandwich, and parked myself in front of the TV. I flicked through the channels until I found some sports – football, soccer, I was barely paying attention – and just let my mind drift while I ate. 

So: - I was Dragonborn. I had a gene that let me absorb energy from a dragon’s soul, which I could use to power specific spells. I wasn’t magic, but I could use a form of it. 

And I was a goddamned human being.

“No biggie,” I muttered, reaching for the next sandwich. “Just, ya know, questioning my own existence. The little things.”

“It’s not good to talk to yourself,” F.R.I.D.A.Y said.

“Well apparently, now I’m talking to you.”

“I’m good for you. I don’t judge.”

I nearly spat out my sandwich. “Since when?”

“Well, I’ll judge you about your choice of clothes, your choice of food, and your inability to rest properly, but if you need a neutral ear I’ve evolved to offer one.”

Well, what the hell. I told her everything. When I reached the end, I felt… not liberated, exactly, but almost as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Talking about this away from Stephen, away from Arngeir and Fury and Peter, it was… easier. It allowed me to take a step back from what was happening, the way I’d tried to earlier on. 

“So here I am,” I finished up. “I guess in the long run it doesn’t matter how or why I have this ability.” This was one of the first clear thoughts I’d had all day. “All that matters is what I can do with it. What I _need_ to do with it.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

“Who are you, Frasier Crane?” 

“I’m only up to season three of that. Don’t give me spoilers.”

F.R.I.D.A.Y watched TV. At this point, I wasn’t even surprised.

“I guess I feel… excited? Scared?” I scrubbed my eyes. “Fucking exhausted?” I grabbed the last bite of my sandwich. The bread was beginning to dry up. I ate it anyway. “Also, still hungry.”

“Get some sleep, boss.”

I grabbed my crutch and went to bed. Via the kitchen. And another sandwich.

~~&~~

_“Fus-Ro-Dah.”_

_I was hurled back through the air, palm and foot repulsors unable to compensate for the massive magical force. I was as helpless as a gnat caught in a gust of wind. The impact as I hit the wall travelled through my whole body –_

I dragged my eyes open, staring sightlessly into the darkness, breathing hard and sweating. I was too hot. I clawed at the blanket and tried to clear my head.

_I stood in front of Usreyth’s bloodied corpse, revelling in his death, luxuriating in the sensations as his soul was drawn into my body. With this energy I was a god and I would make everyone worship me; if I could kill a dragon with nothing more than my suit, what could I do with the power of the Shouts? What_ couldn’t _I do? I’d rule Earth. Aliens from galaxies away would know my name and tremble. I’d Shout Richard Montgomery into so much dust; with Stephen at my side, we’d ride out over the Universe, and I’d take what was rightfully mine –_

I bolted into a sitting position, the tangled blanket pooling at my waist. 

I was sweating hard. Gasping for air that wouldn’t seem to come. Pain arrowed up my leg and nestled somewhere in my hip. My ribs throbbed and ached. 

“No,” I mumbled, head in my hands. “I’ll never be like that, _never,_ I can’t –”

“Are you OK?”

“Do I fucking sound OK?” Wait, that was unfair. “Sorry, sorry…”

“Would you like me to call Stephen?”

“No, it’s just stupid nightmares. A shower, a change of sheets, I’ll be fine.”

“As you wish.” She sounded dubious.

“Didn’t teach you to make _Princess Bride_ references.” My hands were shaking, the memory of the latest nightmare so vivid – so powerful – that it felt branded on my brain. I would never let myself be that person. _Never._

“The internet is a vast and wonderful resource.” Now she sounded smug and amused. “You should see what I found in your browser history –”

“Stay outta my porn stash!” I yelled, the absurdity of her comment driving the vestiges of nightmare-induced terror away. “Can’t I have any goddamned privacy around here?”

“Gosh, no. You know you don’t cope well on your own.”

“You’re right! And I’m annoyed that you’re right! And I’m annoyed that I created you in the first place!”

“I love you too, boss.” Her laugh was bright and free, just what I needed to lift my mood. 

“Enough to get the shower going?”

“Of course. Oh, and Director Fury is requesting permission to send you a data file.”

“Is he now,” I said, scratching my chin. I needed to shave. “Alright, accept it, but make sure it comes through on a secure network and stick it on a machine that’s not connected to anything else. I wouldn’t put it past him to Trojan Horse that thing.” If it was a map of the dragon burial mounds, then I needed to see it… but not at the expense of my own security. “I’ll take a look when I don’t feel like I’m about to pass out.”


	15. 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Peter, Tony begins to study the data Fury sends him regarding additional burial mounds. Tony begins practising his Unrelenting Force.

I woke early the next morning. It was still dark. My head throbbed – too much sleep – and my mouth was dry. My stomach growled. Despite a change of sheets and a shower, that hadn’t been the end of the mental parade of nightmares, and the sheets were damp again. When I pushed the blanket back the sour smell of sweat made my nose twitch. Fuck _this._

I sat on the edge of the bed, testing my leg. Still hurt (no surprise there) but I’d dealt with worse pain before. I’d ditch the crutch and damn the consequences.

One long shower later told me that was a bad idea. Grimacing at my own body’s weakness, I dressed, grabbed the crutch, downed more painkillers, and drove out to the nearest IHOP. I’d take a look at Fury’s data file when I had my head together. The only way to do that was to OD on pancakes.

Driving was not a fun experience. I should have let F.R.I.D.A.Y take the wheel. She drove like a grandma, something she’d learned rather than been programmed for. But I was determined to do _something_ for myself. It wasn’t like the car was a stick-shift, I could manage an automatic. Even if the pedal action was all with my bum leg, and every time I gave it a little more gas… or a little less gas… or even thought about touching the brake… needles of pain prickled up and down my calf. 

I got to the restaurant, parked, crutched my way in, and ordered. I video-called Peter while I was working my way through enough food to feed three people. His face was rumpled, eyes half-open. Great – I’d woken the kid up.

“Petey,” I said. “You doing OK?”

“Rude to talk with your mouth full,” he mumbled, sitting up. He bundled the blanket down under his arms, running a hand through sleep-rumbled hair. “Also, rude to eat pancakes when I’m not there.”

“You’ve got school.”

“It’s Saturday!”

“Oh. Alright then.” The curse of setting your own working hours – no idea what fucking day of the week it was. “You want some, you gotta get yourself here.”

“I’m there, man.” He cut the call.

I laughed and settled down to eat. Peter walked in ten minutes later, out of breath, flushed, and sweating.

“What took you so long?” I snickered.

“Traffic,” he grunted. “Skyscraper network’s real busy this time of day.” He threw himself into the seat opposite. “You know, birds, clouds, that kind of thing. What’s with the crutch?”

“Everyone’s a comic,” I grunted. “You tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.”

His eyes narrowed. Yeah, I was deflecting. I had so much to tell him… I just needed another couple minutes to prepare.

I pushed a plate of food across to him, listening to him talk in between mouthfuls. Sounded like he’d done an excellent job getting people away from the fire yesterday morning. I was proud of him, and told him so.

“I’ve seen some of the news footage,” he said as he polished off one plate and reached for another. “That dragon, man. Intense.”

“Intense is the right word.” I gave him a basic run-down on my own experiences, skipping over the part where I’d kissed Stephen.

“Dude,” Peter said eventually. “That’s…”

“Tell me about it.”

“You’re _magic._ ”

“I can _do_ magic,” I corrected sharply. “There’s a difference.” Was I always going to have to keep making that distinction?

“No.” He shook his head, unperturbed at my tone. “From what you told me, it sounds like you’ve always been magic. You were born this way, you’ve always been Dragonborn. You just needed the right trigger to bring it out. That’s, like, really cool, man.”

“It’s…” Well, it was something. I just had to work out in my head what that was. “Fury thinks I’m some exotic new weapon he has to figure out how to use.”

“Hasn’t he always thought you were a weapon he could use?”

“Ha! Yeah, you’re right about that.” That made me feel a little better, in a fucked-up kind of way. Like the status quo hadn’t really changed.

“How do _you_ feel about that?”

“For a little while… I wasn’t so sure he was wrong,” I replied, dragging the tines of the fork over a pancake, studying the faint grooves in the fried batter. I wasn’t going to lie to Peter about any of this. “I wondered if it might be better to think that. Make it easier for me to accept.” 

I was experienced enough to know I needed support – even if I was too goddamned stubborn to accept it most of the time – and that support came in many different forms. A sympathetic ear was sometimes the most important help I could ever get.

He gave me a long, thoughtful look before he spoke again.

“You can’t spend the rest of your life like that.”

“Oh, and I suppose you understand what I’m going through, huh?” I leaned back in the chair, giving him the full weight of my faux-parental disapproval. 

“Living with new powers? Yeah, I know a little bit about that.”

I slumped in the chair, dropping my fork with a clatter onto the plate. Of _course_ he knew what I was going through. Our journeys weren’t the same – his abilities were the result of being bitten by a freaking radioactive spider, rather than inherent magical power – but… yeah. He was right.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “I know I can be an asshole sometimes.”

“Yup.” He nodded. “Not gonna argue with you on that one.”

I winced. That hurt. “What happened to the hero worship?”

The look he gave me was far older than his years, and far wiser. I had to stop thinking of him as a kid. He’d grown into his powers… and his responsibilities.

Maybe it was time I did the same thing.

“Sorry,” I croaked again, when he said nothing. “I have to try to do better. To accept this… this.” I waved a hand at myself. “You got anything planned for today? Wanna help me out some more with the LMDs?”

“I think what you need to do right now is focus on yourself.” That wise look hadn’t left his eyes, and I tried not to fidget. “You said Arngeir gave you this spell thing, right? So you need to figure out how to use it. You need to practise.”

“But Montgomery –”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y’s looking for him. The whole of S.H.I.E.L.D is looking for him. I know you’re brilliant, but _man_ you gotta learn how to delegate.”

“Yeah, never really been good at that,” I said, awkwardly rubbing the back of my neck.

“Drop it, Tony. You know what you need to do.”

“You schooling _me,_ kid?” The words were a growl, out before I could control myself, out before I remembered Peter was just trying to help. That in this, at least, he had way more experience than me. “Sorry, sorry…” Jesus. Broken record, much.

He just looked at me, one eyebrow lifted. “Am I gonna have to call Doctor Strange? He seems to be the only person you even pretend to take advice from.”

Given how we’d parted yesterday, I wasn’t so sure that was a good idea. 

“No one likes a tattle-tale,” I grumbled. “Alright. I’m gonna figure out how to use this Shout thing, right after breakfast. You in?”

“Sure. Someone needs to make sure you’re not slacking off.” He flashed me an impudent grin. I knew in that moment that we were OK; that he hadn’t taken offence at my hissy fit. 

“Better keep a sharp eye then, Underoos. You’re looking at a world champion when it comes to slacking off.”

“You know what, I _am_ gonna call Doctor Strange…”

“OK, OK! Sheesh!”

~~&~~

I sent Peter home, told him I’d pick him up after I’d studied the data Fury sent last night. 

Kind of wished I hadn’t looked. According to the map, there were another _five burial mounds_ spread across the world. Another _five dragons_ that could be brought back to life, not even counting Alduin or Usreyth. 

I freaked out about that – quietly, in the privacy of my own lab, with no one to see but F.R.I.D.A.Y – then dug as deep into the data as I could. I examined the algorithm Fury’s people had used to find the locations. I couldn’t find any flaws.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, make sure Stephen gets a copy of this?”

“Sending it over now.”

~~&~~

There was plenty of land around the Avengers’ compound I could use to practise my Shout. But until I had a better idea of the scope of my new abilities, I wasn’t taking any chances. It was hotter than a cheese toastie in the New Mexico desert but it had the space, and the seclusion, that we needed. Lots of low hills. Lots of rock.

And – as I looked at Peter’s pink face – lots of opportunity for sunburn.

“Put that on,” I said, tossing a bottle across to him. He caught it easily with one hand and didn’t even try to argue, so he must have realised he was a couple degrees away from crispy-fried. I’d already slathered my face, neck, and arms: - my skin was a little darker than his, certainly more tanned, but I’d already taken some burns from yesterday’s dragon attack. I was already pretty much done. 

I’d brought the crutch. My leg was already telling me I was going to pay for this.

“So how does this Thu’um thing work?” he asked when he was done, handing the bottle back. I dumped it in the bag of supplies (and by ‘supplies’ I meant bottles of water, sandwiches, and Twinkies). 

“Let’s find out. Stand back.”

He moved to stand a few feet behind and to the side of me, a wary look on his face. No, not wary, I realised – just focussed. He was ready for whatever was about to happen. I liked that.

I closed my eyes, searching for a memory of the feelings I’d had when Arngeir handed over his knowledge. White-gold light played behind my eyelids. Unbidden, my mind went further back. The moment I’d absorbed Usreyth’s energy. 

I remembered how powerful I’d felt. How arrogant. So sure of my place in the world. I flashed back to last night’s nightmare, where I’d been convinced I could – and should – own the Universe. 

That wasn’t what this power was for. I had to make sure the people who _did_ want to take over the Multiverse (like these asshole dragons) never got that opportunity.

_The blood of Akatosh runs through me._

I opened my eyes. Focussed on a nearby cactus. 

“ _Fus._ ” 

Power rippled out of my core, concentrated in my voice. It was almost visible, a shimmer in the air that covered a roughly ninety degree arc in front of me. It hit the cactus –

The plant bent back. The main body snapped. The cactus tumbled back, end over end, for a good twenty or thirty feet.

“Holy shit!” Peter yelled, jumping a couple feet in the air and punching nothing. “That’s fucking _amazing!_ ”

“Language,” I corrected automatically, dazed. But I felt like swearing, too. That _was_ fucking amazing. “Did I just do that?”

He jogged forward, bending to pick up a scrap of cactus. He jogged back and handed it over. It was tattered, the thick, waxy skin ragged, the moist flesh inside shredded. The spikes were bent and broken.

I rubbed a hand over my ribs, suddenly conscious that the release of energy had exacerbated the existing ache. I had a feeling my immediate future contained a lot of Tylenol.

“What would that do to the bad guys?” Peter asked. 

We regarded the mangled remnants of the plant.

“I, uh… that’s kind of like the _entry level_ part of the Shout,” I said hesitantly. “There’s another two parts.”

We stared at the broken cactus again. Part of wanted to stop this. I’d seen enough, surely. But a larger part wanted – no, _needed_ – to test the extent of what I could do. To find out whether I could knock someone through a wall. If I could _break_ that wall. Even though I knew if I could break a wall… I could break a person. 

Peter stood well back this time, ten feet at least. I looked around for my next target. I spotted a low pile of rocks about thirty feet away. I reached for that feeling of power again and…

“ _Fus-Ro._ ”

Energy exploded out of me in a sharp burst. Pain rippled through my ribs. Same shimmer through the air, same approximate angle. Same…

Oh. OK. 

“Dude!” Peter breathed. “You just…”

“I can break rocks.” I shook my head, looking at the crumbled pile of debris. What had once been massive boulders was now a pile of pebbles, still tumbling away from the force of the Shout. This was orders-of-magnitude stronger than the first try. “Oh my _God,_ I can break rocks!”

I tried to put it into perspective. I could do impressive things with the Iron Man suit, too. I could disintegrate things with the repulsors. Burn them. I had rockets. An electrical repulsion field.

But none of those things – not a single goddamned one – were as cool as ‘I-can-disintegrate-shit-with-my-voice’. Or maybe that should be _Voice._ Heh. Those LMDs, I could have Shouted them into pieces. 

Then I imagined what would happen if I Shouted at people. My humour vanished.

“What’s, uh, what’s the third part?” Peter asked. His eyes were still wide and he was beginning to look anxious. It made him look even younger than he was. 

“We’re gonna need a bigger rock,” I murmured, shading my eyes and looking around. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, can you find me a cliff or something? Make sure there’s no buildings anywhere nearby, no people, that kind of thing. And remind me to tap the app, I need some support for my ribs.” I rubbed them again. These Shouts had a kick to them I was just a bit too knocked around to put up with.

“Scanning now, boss. There’s a suitable outcrop a half mile away…”

~~&~~

Ten minutes later, we walked among the ruins of what had once been a hundred-foot tall cliff running along the bank of a dried-up old stream. 

All that remained was rubble. None of the pieces were larger than my head. The dust was thick enough to choke. I deactivated the torso section of my suit, waiting until the nanites had streamed back into the ARC housing, then lifted my T-shirt so it covered my mouth; squinting to find Peter, I saw that he was doing the same. I grabbed his arm and let F.R.I.D.A.Y guide us to clear air. 

“You killed a cliff,” Peter said, scrubbing dust off his sombre face. His excitement had gone. Truth be told, I was starting to feel a little sick. I couldn’t stop imagining exactly what I could do with power like this. In the wrong hands – with the wrong intent…

I wasn’t so sure _I_ was the right hands. And if Fury ever found out the full extent of this ability… or rather, _when_ he found out… it would just strengthen his belief that I was nothing more than a weapon.

“I _did_ kill a cliff,” I said, rubbing my jaw. 

“How do you feel?”

“What are you, my psychiatrist?” 

“Simple question, dude.”

“How did you feel the first time you climbed up the side of a building?”

“Exhilarated. Terrified.”

“There’s your answer.” I was so done with this. I just wanted to go home.

“You’re not tired?”

“Tired of this heat.” And his questions. And myself, if I was being completely honest.

“Can you do it again?”

“What?”

“Shout. Can you do it again? Is it, like, gonna wear you out? How many times can you use it in combat?”

They were sensible questions. And I needed to know the answers. 

“Alright,” I sighed. Looked like we were gonna be here for a while. “Go find me some more shit to break.”


	16. 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony tells Stephen about his progress with Unrelenting Force. They make plans for dinner at Kamar-Taj.

Hours later, I dropped a mildly-sunburned Peter back home and dragged my weary, aching ass into a cool shower. My leg throbbed and burned. Hours on a crutch sucked dusty balls. My ribs were telling me that, even though they’d had support, they were pissed at me. Go hard or go home, that seemed to be the only way I could do things. But I’d learned what I needed to know. 

Turned out, each part of Unrelenting Force had a cool-down period ranging from a few minutes right up to a half hour. I’d reached for the magic, for the way it felt to Shout, and… nothing. So I’d waited, wondering if I’d somehow lost my new power, vacillating between joy and despair. I hadn’t wanted this new ability… but now, I didn’t want to lose it.

It was hard to tell if there were any adverse effects. I was tired, but that could be because my sleep was shit and I’d been out in the sun all morning. I’d need to perform more experiments, gather more data, before I could reach any kind of conclusion. Unfortunately, I didn’t think Alduin – or any of his dragon buddies – would give me that kind of time.

I debated taking a nap but, mindful of the nightmares still lurking in the back of my mind, I decided coffee would be a better choice. I called Stephen and put him on speaker-phone while I fiddled with the coffee machine.

“Tony.” He sounded wary. “How’s the leg?”

“Hasn’t gone black and dropped off,” I said, “so I guess it’s OK.” His laughter was good. I didn’t want this wariness between us, even though I’d caused it. 

“The map you sent over this morning was interesting.”

“I was gonna go with ‘terrifying’,” I replied. “That’s another _five_ dragons, Stephen.”

“You won’t be alone if they rise again. I promise you that.”

I liked the certainty in his voice. I also knew that, however much he might mean it, that didn’t mean it would be true. The demands on his time were fierce. 

“What d’you suppose will happen if we dig up the bones?” I asked. 

“We can destroy them, I think.” He sounded cautious. “If we prevent them rising we reduce casualties. But even if we crush them to dust, Alduin would still give them back their flesh and blood. I suggest we remove them to an unpopulated area.”

“Thought so,” I said with a sour grunt. “How ‘bout the middle of the desert, the Arctic Circle, the bottom of a volcano?”

It would be a massive effort – the mounds were all in or near populated areas, buried deep, and their removal would cause a lot of damage. _Not_ removing them… waiting for the dragon to emerge… yeah, that would cause even more damage.

“Has Fury acted yet?”

“Not that he’s told me,” I said as I crutched over to the table, careful not to spill the coffee I’d just made. I wasn’t sure Fury _would_ tell me if he’d acted. He only gave something when he wanted something in return. “But even if he does decide to remove the bones, it’s going to take time. They’re in different countries, S.H.I.E.L.D doesn’t have jurisdiction, and they’re buried deep. Heavily populated areas. It’s gonna take specialist equipment to extract them.”

“You could offer your assistance…”

“I could. If I wasn’t going crazy-mad with these LMDs and figuring out how to make my new Sailor Moon outfit nice and pretty.” Maybe I could program a dragon decal on the suit’s chest.

“What…?”

“Never mind.” I dismissed his question with a shake of the head until I remembered I was on the _phone_ and he couldn’t see. My one-liner game was way off. I needed rest. 

“My little sister used to watch Sailor Moon,” he said into the awkward silence.

A sister? “You never mentioned her.”

Another silence. It stretched on, so long I wondered whether he’d heard me.

“She died when I was a teenager,” he said eventually. “Drowned. Her name was Donna.”

“Oh, hey… Stephen, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “But we were talking about dragon bones.”

“If you wanna talk about your sister…” I sometimes wondered whether I’d have grown up less selfish if I’d had a sibling.

“Another time, perhaps.” There was warmth in his voice. “But I appreciate the offer. Carry on with what you were saying.”

It felt kind of wrong to just keep talking shop when he’d dropped his sister into the conversation. But that was his choice to make, and I respected that.

“Alright.” I gathered my thoughts, sipped my coffee. “I was gonna say that S.H.I.E.L.D has their own tech, so no way am I lending them mine. And I’m not sure I like the idea of them even _having_ the bones – what’s to stop them trying to control the dragons when they rise?”

The silence on the other end of the line told me Stephen hadn’t considered that idea. I wasn’t surprised. He loathed Fury (and I was pretty sure the feeling was mutual) but he hadn’t known him as long as I had. Didn’t know the twisty, squirrelly way his mind worked. Fury _did_ have honourable intentions – the protection of the US and, more recently, Earth – but he would do anything he deemed necessary to achieve those intentions. He used, broke and manipulated people however he saw fit.

Once upon a time, I’d been one of those people. 

“We’ll monitor the situation,” Stephen said, though he sounded a lot less confident than he had at the start of the call. “When they’re in a position to remove the bones we can decide whether they’re safe with Fury.”

“OK,” I said. “Keep me posted. How’s Arngeir doing?”

“Recovering slowly. He sleeps a lot. I’ve tried asking him what his situation is back on Nirn, and how he intends to go home, but he’s been cagey with his answers.”

“Hmm.” I didn’t like the sound of that. “I’m kind of picking up ‘one-way trip’ vibes.”

“Me too. I may be able to open a portal for him, but he’s in no hurry to return, and I’m in no hurry to send him. There is much he can teach us.”

“Well look at you, being all humble.”

“It’s a gift,” he said. His tone was modest, but he couldn’t hide his amusement. I suddenly wished I’d video-called so I could see his face. His smile.

I… missed him.

Hell. 

“So I’ve been figuring out what I can do with this Shout,” I said.

“I thought I told you to rest?” The humour was gone. 

“That was yesterday. I slept great, by the way, thanks for asking.” He didn’t need to know about the nightmares, or the fact that I’d pretty much worn myself out again.

He sighed. “What have you learned?”

“Unrelenting Force is…” I hesitated, trying to pick the right words. “It’s powerful. I can blast things away from me. Disintegrate them. If I use it in a populated area, I’m gonna have to be real careful where I aim it.”

“You didn’t invite me.” His tone cooled further.

Damn it. Magic was his bag, not mine. As the Sorcerer Supreme, it would have been a courtesy – if nothing else – to have him along during the first trials. 

“Sorry,” I said, and meant it. “You’ve got your own business going on with Arngeir and tentacles and God-knows what else. I didn’t think, man. Sorry,” I added again.

I heard him breathing, a few slow breaths in and out, before he spoke again. The sound – amplified by the speaker-phone – was oddly erotic. 

“Right now you _are_ my business. Tell me when you start practising again.”

I knew he was just being professional. That because I had this ability, this higher state of energy, I was now officially part of his world. Not just drawn in by friendship or comradeship or whatever the fuck it was we had. But his words felt more… personal. I liked that. 

“I’m going go back out again tomorrow,” I said. “We’ve got this place in Mexico, it’s basically rocks and cactus –”

“We?” A sharp note jammed itself into his voice. 

“Me and Petey. Kid’s a little sunburned, even with the block I made him wear.”

“Oh.” The sharp note vanished. For a moment – a crazy, exhilarating moment – I wondered if he’d been jealous. Stupid, irrational… yeah, he’d kissed me back when I’d kissed him, but that didn’t mean he felt anything more for me. I’d startled him, that was all. “You’re not sunburned, are you?”

“Nah. I take the sun better than him.”

“Speaking of burns, I want to check yours again.” There was something particularly focussed about his voice now, a tone I hadn’t heard before. I didn’t know what to make of that. “I’ve made balm that will speed up the healing process –”

“Why, Doctor Strange,” I drawled. “I thought you were a man of science.”

“Believe it or not, it _is_ possible to apply the scientific method to what we call ‘magic’,” he said, in a tone of voice that implied he’d spent a _lot_ of time thinking about this. “Simply put, it boils down to the manipulation of energy. You and Arngeir do it one way. I do it another.”

“If this balm will help, then I’ll take it, with thanks.” There was a joke there – several, actually – but I avoided making them. “Wanna come over for dinner tonight?”

“Uh – sure,” he said, sounding startled. He cleared his throat. “Though if _you’re_ cooking, how about you come to Kamar-Taj?”

“I should be offended by that,” I said, laughing. “I can bring take-out?”

“I believe you joked the other day about me inviting you over for dinner. That lamb ragu is still on the menu.”

My mouth watered, but whether it was the idea of a home-cooked meal – or spending more time with Stephen – I wasn’t sure. Maybe it was both. I was OK with that. 

“Oh shit, time zones!” I said. “My dinner, or yours?”

“We’re closer to yours right now than mine.”

I did a little quick math. It was somewhere around noon, so it would be close to ten at night in Kamar-Taj now. A civilised time for an evening meal was around seven, so… 

“It’s gonna be a real early breakfast for you,” I said cautiously. I was desperate to spend time with him – time that didn’t involve work or worry – but not at the expense of his schedule. “I mean, when do you even sleep?”

“Where and when I can,” he said, chuckling. “A skill I learned in med school, actually, in between studying for exams. I didn’t sleep much even before the accident.”

“Still, it’s early for you…”

“Do you want this lamb ragu or not?”

“Hell _yes._ ”

“Then be ready when I get here.”

I’d never been so happy to obey an order.

~~&~~

I was drawn back to my lab. I couldn’t help myself. Me and resting… yeah, they’d never gone hand in hand. When I wanted something I went out and got it, whether it was a fast car or more time at work.

_So what are you doing with Stephen, then? You want him. Don’t even try to deny it._

“Stupid brain,” I muttered, slapping the side of my head as I crutched over to a work station. The short walk from the kitchen to the lab was a bad move. I hoped this morning’s activity hadn’t ripped a stich. 

Most of the LMD fragments were still laid out on the table. I had others hooked up to diagnostic gear. Life Model Decoy technology was advanced, but it was nothing I hadn’t encountered before. What _was_ new, what had to be investigated as thoroughly as possible, was how Montgomery had managed to disable my suit. My working theory was that the LMDs emitted a signal that jammed the nanite cohesion field, but without hard data it was nothing more than a theory. I had to find a way to counter that. Or next time I went up against Montgomery, I wouldn’t just be at a disadvantage, I’d be dead in the water. ‘Dead’ being the operative word.

“Except he doesn’t know I can Shout,” I murmured to myself. “Yeah. Definite advantage. Trying countering _that,_ asshole.”

It was usually easy to lose myself in work. And I usually welcomed the distraction. But right now it was thoughts of Stephen distracting me from work. Thoughts of Alduin. About being Dragonborn, and the extra responsibility I now seemed to have. I couldn’t just take this in my stride. I doubted anyone could. It was going to take time to process, and that was something I just didn’t have.

I looked up from the fragments to the nearest screen, running an experienced eye over the lines of data. Most of it was jumbled, the coding broken or simply absent, forever ruined by Alduin’s onslaught. 

But _that_ piece of code… and _that_ piece… I pinched my fingers over the screen, throwing the data onto the nearest holo unit. Sections of blue-green data floated in the air. Maybe they had something to do with the nanite repression.

“Hello,” I murmured, studying each fragment. “One of these things is not like the other.”

“Stephen will be here soon,” F.R.I.D.A.Y reminded me. “You need time to get ready.”

“I _am_ ready.” Something about these specific pieces of code had caught my eye. I just couldn’t tell what.

“I believe it’s customary for humans to dress smartly for dates?”

“Huh?” I dragged my eyes away from the holo display, gazing at a random patch of air a couple feet away. Well, it wasn’t like F.R.I.D.A.Y had a physical aspect, not like the LMDs. 

“I’ve spent time studying human courtship rituals,” she said. “And for the purposes of a meal, it’s customary for both parties to dress smartly.”

“Alright, who messed with your code?” I demanded, eyes already drifting back to the holo display. 

“Only you, boss. And it tingles when you do.”

OK… that was more information than I wanted to hear right now, especially as it was on the tip of my tongue to ask whether she meant tingle in a good or bad way.

“This isn’t a date,” I grumbled. “It’s just food.”

But now she’d said it? Yeah. I wanted it to be a date.


	17. 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over dinner, they discuss Unrelenting Force in detail and talk about Peter. Tony reveals some personal family history.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y told me you’d be here,” Stephen said, sometime later. He looked comfortable and relaxed in a simple dark grey tunic and pants, with none of the elaborate ornamentation, buckles, or belts from his workwear. It highlighted the darkness of his hair. It was a good look for him. Casual Wizard.

I glanced at my watch. Gone _seven?_ Hell, where had the time gone? No wonder my stomach was demanding to know why it hadn’t been fed for hours. Those Twinkies hadn’t lasted long (and of course, I’d given the sandwiches to Peter).

“Sorry,” I said, wrenching my eyes away from the holo display. I’d picked out more fragments of code, more areas that didn’t make sense, but I was still no closer to understanding their purpose. “Richard Montgomery left me some kind of present in these LMDs, and it irks me that I can’t work out what it is.”

“Sorry,” Stephen said. “Coding’s not my thing.”

I waved a dismissive hand at the display and shut the program down.

“I’ll get it eventually,” I grumbled. “There’s no way I’m letting that prick get one over on me. He does _not_ run the tech game.”

“You’re worried he’s got better toys than you?” he taunted. 

“Hell no.” I glared. “These are… well… alright, so he _has_ got better toys than me. But he’s on the run. Limited resources. As soon as we get him back, he’s out of the game.”

“No leads yet on where he might be hiding out?”

“Probably some beachfront in Tahiti,” I sighed. “But no, nothing specific. S.H.I.E.L.D are sharing their intel, but they’re coming up as blank as me.”

“It may take time, but I have a few arcane methods of keeping track of people,” Stephen began cautiously. “With your permission, of course.”

I gave him a startled look. He was asking for permission to do something magical on my behalf. Just a couple of days ago, I would have said no. Would have got prickly and defensive, insisted I could sort out my own problems. Part arrogance, part fear. But now… I hadn’t lost my fear of magic, not exactly, but I was coming to understand that it was a skill. Not a tool (Peter had made it clear I couldn’t think of it that way) but if I thought of it as a skill, something that the right people could learn with enough focus and dedication, then I knew I could come to accept it. To accept _myself._

I’d spent enough time hating myself in the past. For so many different reasons. I couldn’t do that anymore. 

“Sure,” I said eventually. “Thank you.”

He seemed just as startled that I’d accepted. 

“Good. I’ll set the spells going after dinner.”

“Speaking of,” and I patted my stomach, “let me just go change real quick. If we’re going to Kamar-Taj I need more layers.”

“Stay there. I’ll get something.”

“I’m beginning to think you just like rifling through my clothes.”

He opened a portal directly to my bedroom, took a few steps forward, then looked back over his shoulder.

“Maybe I do,” he said, and winked.

~~&~~

He left me standing, jaw brushing the floor, while he passed out of my line of sight. I crutched through the portal.

“Wait, wait, you can’t just leave me hanging like that!”

He emerged from my walk-in wardrobe, a black sweater in one hand and a maroon one in the other. 

“It’s called ‘teasing’,” he drawled. 

“Well, come on.” I put my hands on my hips. “I didn’t tell you to _stop._ ”

He laughed. I began to hope that maybe I hadn’t freaked him out with yesterday’s impromptu confession. 

Moving closer, I plucked the black sweater out of his hand and dragged it over my head. Good choice – I was toasty warm now, so I’d be comfortable at Kamar-Taj.

“ _Now_ are you ready?” he asked. He gestured, and the view through the portal changed from my lab to the courtyard I’d seen before. It was light there, early morning, dawn not long finished judging by the red-gold sunshine splashing gently across the walls.

“Born ready, baby.” I strutted through the portal, crutch deliberately left behind, making sure the pain in my leg didn’t show in my face. It took all my effort but my _God,_ it was worth it – when I stopped in the courtyard I struck a pose and looked over my shoulder. I just caught the expression on Stephen’s face before he shut it down. The hungry gleam in his grey eyes. The way his lips parted. I had a sudden brief, vivid fantasy of sucking his lower lip into my mouth.

But the pain shooting up my leg was too much. My knee buckled. I stumbled. Stephen’s arm around my waist kept me upright. As he eased the crutch under my arm, his face was very close to mine. That hungry look hadn’t left his eyes.

“Idiot,” he muttered.

“Yup,” I conceded. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

He put a little space between us, but he was smiling. “No, you’re not. Come on.”

~~&~~

We took a different exit off the courtyard this time. My little stunt _had_ been stupid, but I’d do it a thousand times just to see that look on Stephen’s face.

I followed him to what I took to be his private quarters. Given that he was the Sorcerer Supreme – the head honcho of a group of people for whom manipulating magic was second nature – I expected him to live in a much grander setting, but no. It was kind of humble. A small dining area; a little round table; a couple simple chairs. A half-open door gave me a peek into his bedroom. A bed – a set of drawers – a wardrobe. The walls in both rooms were painted white. The floorboards were age-worn wood. Plain and simple, yet a thousand times more homely than my soulless bedroom would ever be.

“Dude, is that a _single bed?_ ”

“Kamar-Taj is a place of learning.” His voice was dry; he held a chair out for me to sit. I sank down hard, stifling a grunt of relief, propping the crutch against the wall. “We’re all students here. Including me.”

“Pretty sure I had a double at college.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll show you the Sanctum one day. Much grander. King-size bed, canopy, carved posts. The lot.”

And he was offering to show me around his bedroom. I swallowed. Tried to pretend that my face wasn’t suddenly too hot. 

“It’s only fair,” I said, trying to style it out. “You’ve seen mine. You probably know my wardrobe better than I do.”

He snickered. “I’ll fetch the food. Drink?”

“Uh, something non-alcoholic? Painkillers.”

“Of course.” He left the room.

I was tempted to go mooch around his bedroom, but the idea of putting weight on my leg right now changed my mind. With nothing to do but wait, I pulled out my cell and called up those rogue lines of LMD code.

This wasn’t something I could leave to F.R.I.D.A.Y. There didn’t seem to be any pattern to the fragments that had caught my eye; there was nothing I could program her to look out for. I wasn’t even sure _why_ they’d caught my eye, only that they had. Without a holo display all I could do was scroll through the text. There was something…

The rattle of wheels over flagstones dragged my attention away. I put my phone back in my pocket as Stephen returned, pushing a trolley laden with covered plates.

“You could have opened a portal to get that,” I said. 

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t use portals for everything.” His smile was a flash, there and gone in a second. “I like to remember that I do actually have two fully functioning legs. No offense,” he added. 

“Go on, rub it in,” I grumbled. “That lamb ragu better be good, that’s all I can say.”

“Good? I’m insulted you even have to ask.” He removed the nearest metal cover with a flourish, letting the scent of cooked food waft up. My mouth watered. 

“Suddenly I’m feeling apologetic,” I said, leaning forward so I could breathe deeply. “God _damn,_ Strange, this smells good.”

“Of course it does.” He busied himself setting out plates, dishing up food and pouring drinks. I sipped mine. Water.

Neither of us spoke as we got down to the serious business of eating. The ragu was damned near the best thing I’d tasted in… God, it felt like years. The lamb was so tender it fell apart as I scooped it onto my fork, and when I took that first mouthful – _wow._ Tomato, garlic, onion… I unpicked the flavours one by one, then just let it all sit on my tongue before chewing. My next forkful had pasta – whatever those little tubes were called – mixed with the sauce, and a few scraps of parmesan.

“‘s good,” I mumbled around a mouthful.

“Only good?” His lips tilted in a smile.

“ _Real_ good.” I swallowed and crammed another loaded fork into my mouth.

His smile broadened before slowly subsiding.

“So tell me,” he said a few minutes later, “exactly what you can do with this Shout.”

I gave him a detailed account of our experiments out in the desert. I debated keeping to myself how I’d felt during those first few tests, but in the end I told him that, too. If he was going to help me he needed everything. Fury – who only understood feelings in as much as they allowed him to manipulate people – wasn’t getting any of those. 

“So this Shout is a tool,” he said eventually, as we were finishing the main course. To my delight (which I made zero effort to conceal) there was also dessert, some kind of moist-looking cake I’d spent the last ten minutes eyeing up. “Arngeir said that the Thu’um serves many purposes, both in combat and out of it, and I have to admit I am intrigued.”

“No way for me to learn any other Shouts, though,” I replied. “I mean, Arngeir gave me Unrelenting Force and he’s the only Greybeard around here.” And never mind the fact that I didn’t _want_ another Shout. One was enough for any man, surely. 

“Arngeir has been somewhat close-mouthed about that.” He played with his fork, balancing it between his fingers. For once they weren’t trembling at all, and I wondered whether he was making a conscious effort to control them – or, more likely – using some subtle magic. “There is more he’s not telling me. I’ll press him again in the morning.”

I frowned, thinking. “If dragons were able to get here from Nirn, what _else_ came through with them?”

“My thoughts exactly. From the little I’ve been able to glean about their nature, they’re like cats – arrogant, demanding worship, quick to lash out. I suspect they were accompanied by some kind of entourage. Either that, or they acquired one on Earth. That kind of presence leaves a mark, even if it was just a way for the dragons to say ‘I was here’.”

“There’s five dragon mounds. D’you think that’s it? Could there be more?”

I tried to suppress a shiver. God. The thought of fighting another dragon made my stomach cramp, but I’d always known it was a certainty. Alduin was still out there… somewhere.

Goddamit. There were too many unknowns here. Alduin, Montgomery, the LMDs – it was all one big, stinking mess.

“Problems for tomorrow, right?” Stephen suggested. “But this cake, now, that’s a problem we can solve right now.”

I recognised an effort to change the subject when I heard one. Especially as I was as done talking about this for the day as he was.

“You mean _I_ can solve right now,” I said, pulling the plate closer. “I’m the guest, blah blah blah, now gimme a knife. Or I’m just ripping a hunk off with my bare hands.”

“Savage,” he said with a smirk.

“Not joking,” I warned. “I’m gonna get covered in cake crumbs, there’s gonna be a mess everywhere. It’s not gonna be pretty.”

“Covered in cake crumbs,” he murmured, slowly handing me a knife. His fingers brushed mine – deliberate or accidental, I couldn’t say for sure, but I knew which one I hoped for. “Now there’s an idea.”

~~&~~

We talked about Petey over dessert. Stephen seemed genuinely interested in his career, both professional and personal, and I wondered whether that was down to genuine friendly interest – or as part of his continuing mission to monitor potential threats to the planet. It was possible it was both. Time would tell. 

I couldn’t help but wonder if, now that my Dragonborn gene had been activated and I had access to Unrelenting Force… did he consider _me_ a potential threat to the planet? Or – as Fury did – a weapon that could be used?

I pushed those thoughts away. I didn’t want to know the answer.

“I don’t know what you put in that cake,” I said eventually, pushing my empty plate away. I wanted more, but my stomach was telling me it was done. “And I don’t care, because I’m taking it home. No, no, don’t argue, it’s mine now.”

“I believe it,” he replied, grinning. I liked it when he grinned. “Never get between a man and his food, that’s what my mother said. Well – actually she said _woman_ and food – but I was between her and chocolate at the time, so I was moving kind of fast.”

That made me laugh. “Your mom sounds kinda scary.”

“She was.”

Ouch. “Sorry, man.”

“My parents died some time ago.” He shrugged. “I’ve come to terms with it. It… wasn’t easy.”

“I hear ya.” My humour faded, and I thought again of his earlier comments about his sister Donna. “I thought I’d come to terms with _my_ parents’ death. Car crash,” I added, in case he was unaware. “I found out a couple years ago that it was murder. Not a crash.”

His eyes widened fractionally. “Do you know who was responsible?”

I tensed already tense muscles. “Yeah. Bucky Barnes. A brainwashed Bucky, apparently. H.Y.D.R.A sucks diseased moose wang.”

“My God.” Stephen leaned back in his seat, letting out a breath as he stared at the table. His eyes flicked back to my face. “I can’t imagine how difficult that must have been.”

“I… tried to kill Steve.” That hadn’t been reported in any newspaper or media outlet. “Like, seriously tried to kill the Cap. He’d known for a while their deaths hadn’t been an accident, but he’d kept it to himself. For purely noble reasons, of course,” I added, trying not to let my bitterness show. Failing. “I was a hot mess. He just wanted to keep that extra stress off my plate.”

“Did he know it was Barnes?”

“No.” Those memories were always close to the surface, no matter how hard I tried to push them down. “We found out at the same time. We tracked…” I shook my head, knowing I could do no more than skate over the top of this right now. “Story for another time, anyway.”

“I always thought the schism between the Avengers was down to the Sokovia Accords. I’m so sorry, Tony.”

“The Accords were the start of it.” I couldn’t talk about that fight at the Siberian H.Y.D.R.A facility, but I could tell him about this. I wanted him to understand me. To know me even more than he did. And in turn, I wanted to understand _him._ “I wonder if we’d have split at some point anyway. We don’t have a good track record of playing well together.”

“The curse of starting our crusades alone,” he said. “We fight to work out who we are, who we can be. To find out what we can do.”

“Right. So as soon as we have to work with other people, it all goes to hell.” I rubbed a finger and thumb into my burning eyes. This was something I was done talking about, too.

“Thank you for sharing that with me.” His voice was quiet.

“Yeah, well.” My shrug was awkward. “You’re my friend. Plus, you gave me cake.”

That made him smile. “Is it safe to start looking at those burns now?” he asked. “Have you eaten enough to put you in a food coma? I don’t want to lose a hand.”

“Funny guy,” I drawled, trying to hide how his joke had dragged me out of my funk. “Real funny. I’ve bitten people for less than that.”

“You can take the cake home.”

I couldn’t keep up the façade; my face cracked into a grin, dispelling the last of my gloom. 

“Was always going to, but thanks for the permission.”


	18. 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen checks Tony’s wounds and changes the dressings. They discuss the possibility of making armour out of dragon bones. They talk about the kiss, their feelings, and agree to try a relationship.

I helped him clear dishes onto the trolley. He tried to glower me back into the seat, but I was injured, not crippled; I could shift plates without too much effort. The cake plate, however, I kept. He wheeled the trolley out.

When he returned he was carrying an intricately carved wooden box. He put it down on the table. He flipped the lid open to reveal small glass bottles, jars, and – surprisingly – modern first-aid equipment.

“Dude,” I said. “One or the other. Old-style or new. Can’t have it both ways.”

“Au contraire.” His eyes glittered. “Kamar-Taj – an ancient bastion of learning, the centre of defence against incursions from other dimensions – has Wi-Fi. I’m the Sorcerer Supreme, but I still use a cell and get cranky if Wong hogs the Netflix account. I have balm made using extracts from specific plants, but I still keep Band-Aids and bandages in my first-aid box.”

“I stand corrected. Or I would, if my leg wasn’t mangled.”

“I have something that will accelerate the healing on that, too.”

“You can’t use magic…?”

“Magic doesn’t heal, at least not in the way you’re thinking. That was what brought me to Kamar-Taj in the first place.” He held up his hands. His smile was crooked. “It can, however, be used to overcome whatever physical malady afflicts you. Mind over matter. In your case, it’s just tissue damage. You’ll heal.”

“Just tissue damage.” My answering smile was as crooked as his. “Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

“Burns first.” He lifted a small jar of bright yellow balm out of the box. 

I pulled the sweater off, dumping it on the floor, then raised my T-shirt to tuck it under my armpits. The worse burns were on my stomach and chest, and I was pretty sure these ones would scar. Another couple to add to the myriad I already had. 

Stephen leaned closer and gently removed the dressings over the burns. His knuckles brushed the base of my ribs, making my nipples harden. Had he noticed? Did I want him to notice? I was in serious danger of an erection, was already half-hard, just from a few simple touches. I tried to focus on the pain in my leg. Didn’t really help.

But if Stephen noticed anything as he eased the first dressing back, he said nothing. It left me a little confused and a lot embarrassed. 

The adhesive on the dressing snagged on some hair. I made a pained noise in the back of my throat. _Still_ didn’t get rid of the erection, and I was about ready for the ground to open and swallow me up.

“Sorry,” he murmured. His voice had deepened. He didn’t look up, intent on removing the dressings. Or hiding his embarrassment? 

My confidence tanked. There was no way he could have missed my hard-on. 

“No problem,” I croaked. 

When he finally exposed the burns, I winced. They were small, none of them larger than a dime, clustered together in patches. Areas where the nanites had been too damaged to provide adequate protection or had outright failed. 

“I have a few ideas about how we can reduce the risk of further burns,” he said, picking up the jar of balm and flipping open the lid. It smelled nice. Fresh and citrusy.

“I’m all ears.” I tried to relax, but it was impossible with him sat so close. Letting him change my dressings had been a mistake. Where was the old Tony Stark confidence? Gone with the old Tony Stark, that was where. The new ‘improved’ model was too worried he was going to lose his best friend.

“Arngeir mentioned something about armour made from dragon bones.” He scooped a generous measure onto two fingers, then smeared it over the first of the blisters. I tensed, reacting to the cold substance, reacting to his touch, trying to ignore the sting. Trying to ignore my fucking erection. “Fireproof armour. It was a passing reference, and he fell asleep before I could question him further, but it got me thinking.”

The sting was beginning to fade. A curious warmth spread through my skin. “If Dragonborn on Nirn utilised the remains of dragons,” he added, “it would be sensible to at least investigate the possibilities.” He moved on to the next burn area.

I wondered what he was thinking. Whether he was as affected by my proximity as I was by his. Whether I was reading way too fucking much into a simple interaction.

“Might be able to incorporate them into the nanite design,” I said dubiously. “But that’s a big _might._ I’ll need to run tests.”

“I’ll arrange for the bones to reach your lab.” His scarred fingers were steady, the tremble gone as he tended to my wounds. 

“Cool. New toys,” I said.

That made him look up. When his eyes met mine, something like an electric jolt ran through me. He was grinning. I imagined leaning forward and cupping his face in my hand. Stroking my thumb over his cheek, feeling the way his skin crinkled from the grin. Imagined kissing him. Feeling his tongue slip into my mouth. My erection throbbed back to life. 

“And we all know how the great Tony Stark likes his toys.” He turned, loading his fingers with more balm, breaking eye contact.

A sick feeling twisted my stomach. Did he… hang on, did he think I considered _him_ a toy? Just a passing fancy, someone who’d caught my attention? 

Someone I just wanted to play with and would abandon when I got bored?

_Nothing_ could be further from the truth. The way I was coming to feel about him… I was attracted to him, sure, but it ran deeper than that. He understood me in ways no one else did. He made me laugh. But these mixed signals he was giving out…

“Some things are too important to play with,” I ground out.

That made him look at me again. His gaze was wary but thoughtful. He said nothing, and for a few minutes he worked in silence. 

“There we go,” he said eventually, putting fresh dressings on the burns. “The balm will help dry out the blisters, reduce the risk of infection, and reduce the pain.”

“And it smells like I want to eat it,” I added. That made him snort. 

He put the jar back in the box. I let my T-shirt drop, then pulled the sweater back on. He brought out a few more things – sterile wipes, fresh dressings, another jar. The contents this time were purple and did _not_ smell like I wanted to eat them.

“What does this one do?”

“It’s for your leg. Roll up your pants.”

“I could just take them off.” As soon as the words were out, I wanted to claw them back. _Jesus._

He surprised me with a laugh. “Worst chat-up line ever, Stark. Zero out of ten.”

“Alright, alright,” I muttered, leaning forward to roll the denim up. I tucked it over my knee, then started picking at the edge of the dressing.

“I can do that,” he said.

“When this dressing comes off, it’s gonna rip the hairs right out of my leg,” I grumbled. “If I have to suffer I’d rather do it gradually.”

“I thought you were the kind of guy who ripped his Band-Aids off in one go.”

“Band-Aids, yes. Dressings that cover half my manfully hairy leg?” I gestured to my calf. “Not so much.”

“Don’t be a baby.”

“Come at me,” I snapped back. 

“You do realise I’d probably win if we ever fought.” There was nothing bragging in his voice, just utter certainty that his opinion was correct.

The dressing was coming off, inch by torturous inch. Sweat broke out on my forehead. With one final tug I pulled it off, then let out a slow, pained breath.

“You keep your little fantasies,” I said, folding up the used dressing and tossing it on the pile with the other. “We both know I’d just Shout you back to Kamar-Taj.”

“Maybe we should put that to the test,” he mused. “I mean not right now, after we’ve dealt with Alduin, obviously. Friendly spar.”

“No.” The word came out hard and flat. The memory of my confrontation with Steve Rogers was still fresh in my head, never far away at the best of times. “You’re my friend. I don’t wanna fight you, even to spar.”

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately. Maybe he’d seen the look on my face, or just interpreted my tone. “You told me about Steve, I didn’t think –”

“Forget it.” I shook my head. “Let’s just get this done, OK? Then I can abscond with your cake.” I added a smile to show I wasn’t mad at him. 

It didn’t feel like a good smile.

~~&~~

The bite marks on my leg were actually doing OK. They still hurt – no surprise – but they’d scabbed over pretty well. The flesh around them was red and puffy but there were no signs of infection. I could probably ditch the crutch in a day or two, _if_ I didn’t push myself too hard. Right. Maybe I should tell F.R.I.D.A.Y to remind me to take breaks. Although I was pretty sure she already _did…_ and I just ignored her. 

I nagged Stephen again about the cake. I hadn’t been joking about wanting to take it home. He disappeared for a few minutes, returning with foil and a plastic tub. He wrapped the leftover cake and popped it into the tub.

“You have Tupperware at Kamar-Taj,” I said, shaking my head as I took the package. “Man.”

“Actually, we have a lot of Tupperware with missing lids.”

“You’re telling me the Sorcerer Supreme doesn’t know where all the lids go?” I asked in mock horror.

“It’s one of life’s mysteries. It’s right up there with where the missing socks go, and the pencils, and my patience anytime you’re in the room.”

“Wow, I’m a mystery now,” I snickered. “How ‘bout that’?”

He hesitated. “Look, I was wondering…” Another hesitation. His lips thinned, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “Can we, uh, can we talk?”

“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing all evening?” I tried to read his face. He looked anxious. Didn’t bode well, especially as we’d been getting along so well tonight.

“I mean about… personal things.” His eyes slid away from mine.

“Sure.” I tried to hide how that made me feel. “Why don’t you come back to the compound, grab a coffee?” Testing the waters. If he refused, well, I’d know the conversation was about to go downhill. “Or tea or… whatever.”

“Tea sounds good.” His smile was cautious, wary, but I still took it as a good sign. 

He opened another portal directly to the dining area in the compound.

“Doesn’t that take it out of you?” I asked as we walked through. He waved, and the orange ring collapsed behind us. “I mean, throwing these things up? You’ve raised, like, a million or something already today.”

He smiled – a more genuine, relaxed smile than the one he’d given me a moment ago, which was the effect I’d been going for – and waved me into a chair. I ignored him and crutched over to the boiling water tap and the cupboard. I could make freaking _tea_ without help. 

“It’s more difficult when I’m tired,” he admitted, sinking into the chair I’d refused. “I use a Sling Ring as a focus for my energy, but truth be told? Any item would do. We don’t tell the students, but there’s nothing inherently magical about these.” He held up his left hand, displaying the bulky ring that sat across the first and index finger. 

“Let me guess,” I said as I shook loose leaf tea into a simple ceramic teapot and added boiling water. I leaned away from the small cloud of steam, then put the lid on the pot. “You don’t want students going off without supervision, so you cooked up this story about the Sling Ring being the only way they could open a portal.”

“Exactly. When they have enough wisdom and experience, they work it out for themselves.”

“Sneaky.” I put the teapot and a couple of mugs on a tray. I already knew he didn’t take milk or sugar. I just remembered the tea strainer. Taking my steps slow and careful so I could carry the tray in both hands, I made my way to the table and set everything down, taking the chair next to Stephen’s. I left the crutch in the kitchen.

“I’m a sorcerer,” he said. “It’s what we do.”

“And cook, apparently.” 

“And that. We all have skills you wouldn’t normally associate with the arcane. We all came from different lives.” There was a hint of melancholy in his voice, there and gone in a moment.

“Do you miss it?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. “Who you were before the accident, I mean.” That tea smelled damned good. Who knew, maybe I’d even come to enjoy it more than coffee.

I worried that the question was too personal. That he wouldn’t answer. That – even worse – he’d leave. I wasn’t ready for tonight to end.

“Sometimes.” His eyes seemed to lose focus. “I had everything I thought I needed. Money, a great apartment, clothes, fast cars. Had a girlfriend.” His lips twitched in a sour smile. “She left me. I was too arrogant to think I needed anyone.”

I bit my lip. The things he was saying, he could have been talking about me. Except I’d been so in love with Pepper I hadn’t been able to let her go, had still been clinging to this image of her in my head months after she’d died. Had he loved his girlfriend?

“You know what that’s like,” he added, his gaze sharpening again.

“Yeah.” There was no way I could deny it. He knew me. I was coming to know him. “I, uh, the whole Ten Rings shit forced me to put everything into perspective.”

“I’d like to say my accident made me a better person,” he continued. “But the truth was it just made me angry, bitter and broke. I had to…” He cleared his throat. “I basically had to learn who I was. Who I _really_ was, with all the money, power and prestige stripped away. When I was accepted to study at Kamar-Taj, I was reborn.”

“The things we’ve been through, they should have killed us.” I poured for us both, trying not to let myself get mesmerised by the stream of gold liquid as I put it through the strainer. I nudged Stephen’s mug across to him. “We should have died. I don’t believe in fate, or destiny, or anything like that, but I recognise a second chance when I see one.”

“You may not believe in destiny, but…” He pulled his mug closer. “There are still things about the flow of energy we don’t understand.”

“Not gonna argue with you about that one.” I leaned over my mug, enjoying the aroma. It had a calming affect I hadn’t anticipated. Maybe I should drink more. “You wanted to talk about something personal?” More personal than what we’d _already_ been talking about. Sheesh. This was going to hit hard, whatever it was, and I needed to prepare myself for that.

He played his mug between both hands, sliding it over the table. I recognised the movement for what it was – a stalling tactic.

“I’ve been thinking,” he began eventually. “About what you said to me the other day. About the… when you kissed me.”

That made me sit up straight. “OK,” I said warily. If he was going to tell me my interest wasn’t wanted, wasn’t reciprocated, I’d have to deal with that. If he was going to tell me our friendship was in danger because he couldn’t deal with the fact that I wanted him… well, that would be more problematic. 

“You took me by surprise.” His words were hesitant, as if he was feeling his way through the conversation. “I didn’t think you could be bi. I mean, you’re Tony Stark, the great playboy.” For a moment he sounded bitter. “You had your pick of women. I was… well, I was too scared to say anything,” he admitted. “I guess I just didn’t want to lose your friendship. I still don’t.”

A wave of grey covered my vision. My ears roared. For a few seconds I thought I was going to pass out; I closed my eyes, sucked down a deep lungful of air, and gripped my mug tight. I used the burning heat to keep me grounded.

“Tony?” I heard a rustle of cloth, felt a touch on my arm. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I croaked, forcing my eyes open. The grey receded. Stephen’s face was close to mine. “You just… what you said, that’s basically what I’ve felt, too.”

“Seriously?” His incredulity was plain to see. That hurt a little, but I couldn’t be too surprised. I _did_ have a reputation. Back in the day it had been justly deserved. 

Those days were gone.

And Stephen admitting he’d been frightened – actually _frightened_ – of losing my friendship? _My_ friendship? It was incredible. It made me feel… wow. It was like realising you’d just rescued a Christmas present you’d never even known was in danger.

“It was kind of gradual, you know?” I said. “I was grieving for Pepper. I didn’t think I was ready to move on. But I kept thinking about… you know, what it would be like to kiss you. That was when I realised I _had_ moved on.”

“Why now?” he demanded, clearly bewildered. “You killed a dragon and then…”

I hadn’t told him how I’d felt immediately after killing Usreyth. Too personal, too confused. But I had to tell him now.

“Confidence boost,” I explained shortly. “Absorbing all that energy… I felt like the king of the world, like I could do anything. Like a god.” I looked away, rather than see whatever emotions were playing behind his eyes. I wasn’t proud of the way I’d felt. Or the way I’d acted. “I… I saw you there, and it was like everything came ripping up to the surface. I didn’t just want you. I wanted the world to know that you were mine.”

His eyes widened, mouth opening. I don’t know whether I’d startled or revolted him, but that delicate pink colour was spreading over his cheeks. 

“How do I know what you felt was real?” he croaked. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips.

“The energy rush didn’t make me feel anything that wasn’t already there.” This, I truly believed. “It just… it just made those feelings stronger.” Fear – hesitancy – made me repeat his question. “You kissed me back. How do I know what you felt was real? Everything you said about my reputation, that fits you too.”

His eyes played over my face. What was he looking for? What did I want him to see? _Me,_ I thought immediately. _I want him to see me. Not the façade, not the public image, but the guy inside. Scarred. Scared. Broken. But maybe healing, just a little, when he’s around…?_

“I guess… we’ll just have to trust each other?”

He _did_ see me. My heart thumped hard against my ribs in a totally clichéd romance novel kind of way.

“Works for me.” I let out a relieved breath, accompanied by a half-smile. “Can we call this our first date?”

He snorted, the pink deepening to red on his cheeks. “That was kind of my intention. I know this is probably the worst time to talk about relationships, but…” His shrug was awkward.

“The kind of people we are, there’s never a good time.” There’d always be some kind of emergency, some threat, that we had to deal with. “Life’s taught me to enjoy happiness where I can find it.” And there’d been precious little of that recently. We had responsibilities and neither of us would abandon what we saw as our calling. Our second chance. But what we did in between those emergencies… 

“Boss,” F.R.I.D.A.Y interjected suddenly, making me jump, “is this the part where you kiss him again?”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y!” I yelled. “Get lost, OK?”

“She’s right,” Stephen said, his laughter dissipating the tension between us. “This _is_ the part where you kiss me again. Show me it wasn’t just the magic talking.”

Oh, what the hell. I leaned across and kissed him. 

It was different this time. Gentle. More hesitant. His lips were soft and warm; he parted them after a couple of seconds, his tongue reaching for mine. He tasted of tea. It was suddenly my favourite flavour. 

But it didn’t last long. He pulled back before I did. His eyes gave away his uncertainty, but they also gave away his hope. I wanted more – deeper, harder, longer, a recreation of our first kiss – but I had to accept that outside of the chaos of battle, it just wasn’t going to be that way.

“You know what they say about experiments,” I croaked. My erection was back, pushing uncomfortably against my jeans. “You have to keep repeating them.”

“Is that what I am to you?” The uncertainty was giving way to hostility, and I realised that by going for humour I’d made a big fucking mistake. “An experiment? For God’s sake, Tony, I won’t be anyone’s experi –”

“No,” I interrupted. _Damage control, shit._ “I’m sorry, that was a poor choice of words.” I closed my eyes, silently praying to whatever higher power might exist that I didn’t put my foot in my mouth any more than I already had. When I opened my eyes again, his hostility was fading, but the uncertainty was growing more obvious. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want…” My throat closed; to my shame, I realised my fluctuating emotions were a lot closer to the surface than I’d realised. “I don’t want to fuck this up.”

“I… believe you.” His uncertainty was fading, the hope rising again. It felt so good to see that. It dawned on me that if we went down this route – if we tried to make a relationship work – we would open ourselves up to a world of misunderstandings, missteps and pitfalls. 

But I wanted to try. It seemed he did, too. Right now that meant _everything_ to me.

“We, uh, we should probably call it a night,” I said uneasily. Before I said anything else that would fuck things up.

He nodded. “We need to talk more about this,” he said. “About how we make things work.” He waved a vague hand, and I realised he had as little idea about this as I did. “But it’s late. Are you going back out to the desert tomorrow?”

We _did_ need to talk about this, about us. But he was right. I’d had a long day. I didn’t want to risk saying something that would make him change his mind. 

“Yeah,” I said. “Early, before it gets too hot. The rest of the day, I figure I’ll probably work some more on the LMDs.” I hesitated. “Come with me?”

“Of course. I’ll bring breakfast?”

I grinned. “Why Stephen, it’s almost like you know I can’t cook.”

His answering grin was a relief. “Imagine that.” He stood.

“Thanks for dinner,” I said, getting up with an effort. I bit my lip to stifle a groan, grimacing, glaring at the table as if it was to blame for my injuries.

Cloth rustled as he moved closer, into my limited field of vision. His hands closed around my upper arms. His warmth seeped through my sweater, into my skin. _God._ That was good.

“Go to bed,” he murmured. “You need rest.”

I looked up. We were close, inches apart. I met his eyes. They were as warm as his touch.

“I will,” I promised. “How ‘bout a kiss goodnight?” Was I pushing my luck? “That’s how you end dates, right?”

“It is,” he agreed. The look in his eyes changed; the grey darkened, a spark of something burning deep within. Growing stronger. “Who am I to break tradition?”

He dipped his head and kissed me. This was different from the one just now; there was no hesitation, no tentativeness. The press of his lips against mine was firm and I responded immediately, opening for him, sending my tongue out to meet his. The wet slide made my erection throb even harder. I moaned against his mouth, an unexpected and uncontrolled response.

But it seemed to be what he needed to hear. His right hand moved from my arm to cup the back of my head, tilting my head to a better angle. I dug my fingers into the fabric of his tunic. 

When we finally eased apart, his head remained dipped, his fingers tangled in my hair. Brushing over my scalp. I couldn’t put into words how fucking good it felt. 

“How was that for a goodbye kiss?” he said. His voice was deeper, rougher, going straight to some primal part of my brain. 

“That felt like I want you to stay,” I said with a shaky laugh. 

The fingers in my hair tightened for a second, riding deliciously close to the edge of pain, before relaxing.

“Remind me again why I should leave?” he croaked. 

I had no answer to that. Instead I kissed him again, just a gentle brush of my lips over his. 

“Goodnight, Tony.” He let me go, his reluctance a mirror of mine. 

A swell of nameless emotion made me reach out and grab his hand, my fingers sliding over his as he stepped away and broke the brief contact.

“G’night, Stephen.”

He opened a portal, stepped through, and – with one last long, lingering look – was gone.


	19. 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen, arriving early the next day so he can observe Tony’s Shout, wakes him from a nightmare. Over breakfast they discuss their mutual nightmares.  
> After Tony demonstrates the extent of the Shout, Stephen is forced to come to terms with the fact that Tony could – and will, at some point – get hurt or die in combat.

_The street was a ruined battleground, partially blocked by overturned cars. Shattered masonry made it look the surface of some alien planet, not a major street in New York. There were clouds of dust everywhere, blinding, making me grateful the suit had a visor._

_But the gratitude didn’t last. There was no time for it. A truck came hurtling through the air, pushing the clouds aside, making me dodge to avoid the impromptu missile. Fear sat like a fat ball of lead in the bottom of my stomach. Where was Stephen?_

I tossed restlessly, half-awake, half-asleep. Somewhere in between. I knew how this dream ended. The same way, every time – 

_He was pinned against a wall. Only he wasn’t just pinned, he was_ part _of the wall, he was being absorbed by bricks and they were devouring him, oh_ God. _His face was twisted with pain. I couldn’t take seeing that, I had to get to him –_

“Wake up, Tony.”

I fled the nightmare as if my ass was on fire, wrenching my eyes open. Sleep-gummed. I blinked rapidly, trying to chase the images away, knowing it was already too late. They would always stay with me.

“We’re gonna have to work on you learning how to use a door,” I mumbled blearily. F.R.I.D.A.Y had flooded the room with soft light, but I still winced until my eyes adjusted. The blankets were sweat-damp again, my tank and underpants disgustingly clammy. Yuck.

Stephen stood a few feet away from the bed, an orange-ringed portal closing behind him as I tried to focus. He’d gone for Casual Wizard again, a pale blue tunic and pants this time. The material seemed lighter and looser than last night’s outfit. Clothes for a warmer climate than Kamar-Taj wear. He’d come prepared.

“I told you the other day.” His voice was warm, but I still heard the worry colouring his tone. “I take my door with me wherever I go. Are you OK?”

“You rock up in my bedroom at –” I glanced at my watch, easing my aching body into a sitting position. Five thirty? Jesus. “Way too fucking early,” I grumbled, “and you ask if I’m OK.” At least it was sensible for him, gone three in the afternoon Kamar-Taj time. I almost asked if he’d slept.

“Hey, you wanted an early start. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“Beginning to think you just wanna watch me sleep,” I groaned. If the sheets and my clothes hadn’t been damp, I would have considered just turning over and going back to sleep. “Ask me again after I’ve had a shower, ‘kay? Go help yourself to coffee or something.”

“Maybe I _do_ want to watch you sleep.” The warmth in his voice now was more personal, winding around my barely-awake brain. For a mad moment I almost threw the blanket back and asked him to join me. Then reality – or common sense – or caution – reasserted itself, and I checked the impulse. Both the bed and I were a sweat-soaked mess.

“Where’s the Cloak?”

“Keeping an eye on Arngeir, with Wu.”

Too much to get my head around right now. “Coffee, man.” I slid back down, burying my head beneath the blanket.

His answering chuckle faded as he left the room.

~~&~~

The balm he’d used on my wounds last night might not have been magic, but it sure as hell looked like it from my point of view. I checked the burns and the bite marks before I hobbled into the shower. They were all improving. My leg still hurt, but it was more of a dull ache than the burning pain I’d had to endure the last couple days. The blisters were noticeably smaller and seemed less sore. One thing they don’t teach you in Avenger school – how to deal with pain. That’s one we have to learn all by ourselves. 

I showered with care and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. I left the crutch behind, hoping I wouldn’t regret the decision after hours standing in the desert.

When I reached the dining area I could have walked into a repeat of a few days ago. Stephen was cooking, the coffee was going, and the smell was incredible. The sight was pretty incredible, too. Walking into this little slice of domesticity was… comfortable. It felt right. 

Like I wanted to do it every morning. And that scared me. Just… just a little.

“Eggs and bacon OK for you?” he asked, turning from the stove.

“Like you even need to ask the question?”

His soft laugh made me smile. I grabbed a mug from the tree and poured coffee. As I watched, a second mug slid across the work surface toward mine. 

I gave Stephen a suspicious look as he was dishing up. His face was expressionless, but the light dancing in his eyes told a different story. Alrighty then, message received. Asshole. I filled the second mug, then took both over to the table as he carried the laden plates.

_Silver linings,_ I thought. _You’ve only ever seen him drink tea. Nice to know he’s got at least one foot in the dark side._

“How’s the leg?” he asked.

“Getting there. Gonna leave the crutch behind.”

“Well, you know yourself best.”

We didn’t talk for a few minutes, intent on eating. But when our plates were empty he fixed me with a direct look. I knew I was in for a grilling.

“You were having a nightmare when I arrived,” he said.

“Yup.” No point arguing against the obvious.

“You have them often?”

“More than I’d like.” I sipped my coffee. I didn’t want to talk about this, but I understood that if I wanted things to work between us, we had to be truthful with each other. And I _did_ want to make things work with him.

“Will you tell me what it was about?”

I looked at the table, playing my fingers over the rim of my empty plate. He was giving me the option to share, or not, as I chose. He wasn’t pushing for an answer. He respected my right to say ‘no’, to keep something personal to myself.

I think that was what really made me want to tell him.

“I dream about all the shitty things that’ve happened in my life,” I said, looking up from the plate. “Big surprise. The new one is…” I struggled for the words to express how I’d felt. “It’s like this thing inside me has woken up, but it’s a dragon, not a man. And it wants to conquer everything. The city. The world. The whole fucking Universe.”

“You _are_ a man,” he said. The words were quiet but forcefully spoken, making me look up. “Never doubt that.”

I sucked air through my teeth. “My head knows that.” I rapped my knuckles against the side of my skull. “If you could just send a memo to my subconscious, though, that’d be great. Anyway, that was the other night,” I added, reaching for the coffee again. “Last night’s show was more of a re-run.”

“Oh?”

“I get a lot of recurring nightmares,” I explained. “Recently, it’s been New York. When you woke me up you were busy getting eaten by a brick wall.”

He blanched. In real life he’d managed to escape from that. In my dream? He never did. The animated bricks crushed him to a pulp every time. 

“You were dreaming about me?”

“Not exactly the dream I _wanted_ to have, but hey,” I said with an awkward shrug.

That raised the ghost of a smile. “I… I have nightmares sometimes, too.”

“Any you wanna share?”

“Well, that tentacle-demon has made an appearance the last couple of nights,” he said. He seemed uneasy, eyes sliding away from mine.

“So basically you’ve been dreaming about tentacles.” The gentle teasing was out before I could stop myself. It wasn’t the right thing to say but I couldn’t help myself.

But he laughed. He actually laughed. Something unclenched inside me. 

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get going. I want to see your Shout in action.”

~~&~~

When we returned a few hours later, my leg was sore but not unbearable. Stephen had said little during the demonstration and even less during my experiments, other than to make the occasional suggestion about what I should disintegrate next. Unrelenting Force was _goodhad_ used sun-cream. So had he, after I’d nagged him. Arcane shields didn’t protect from UV.

“Isn’t that what you just did?”

“My God, we’re just going round in circles.” I threw my hands up and headed for the fridge. “Come on, man, I know you’re deflecting. Just tell me what’s eating you. Please?” 

I was worried about his response to seeing my Shout in action. I felt… I don’t know, like an interloper or something. He’d spent months, years maybe, learning magic in Kamar-Taj. Perfecting the craft. And here I was, this guy who’d just come waltzing in with a brand new trick. I hadn’t earned the powers I’d been given. I didn’t deserve them.

When I turned back from the fridge, butter and bologna and cheese in hand, he stood in the middle of the floor, hands clenching and unclenching as he looked at me. 

“Stephen?” Had I been wrong to push him? Should I have given him the choice, as he had with my nightmares this morning? Had I just fucked things up?

“I’m… worried,” he admitted, after another long pause. “I hadn’t appreciated until now the full power of your ability. I know you said Alduin knocked you through a wall, but I didn’t see that.”

Shit. He _did_ think I didn’t deserve the power. “I didn’t choose to be the goddamned Dragonborn,” I growled. Christ. Maybe I was about to fuck things up in a different way.

“You misunderstand me.” He crossed the kitchen to take the food out of my hands, putting the items down on the nearest counter. “Nobody chooses to be born with anything. There’s no way I could judge you for that. What bothers me… you’re going to use this Shout in combat, if – _when_ – there’s another dragon attack. You could… get hurt.”

His meaning clicked into place. He was scared – for _me._ Something warm unfurled inside my chest, the fight draining out of me.

“That’s always been a possibility,” I replied, moving over to the bread bin and pulling out a loaf. “In fact it’s more like a certainty. And it was a certainty the moment I put on the Iron Man suit.”

“I know that,” he conceded. “But it doesn’t make it easier to accept. It just… seeing what you did with the Shout today, it really drove it home.” He let out a hard breath.

I put the bread down next to the bologna, giving him a thoughtful look.

“You’ve never been in this position before, have you?” I asked, a sudden flash of insight making his motivations clearer. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said stiffly. He looked away, but not before I’d seen the flash of guilt in his eyes.

“You’ve never been close to anyone like us. People with abilities, powers, gifts, call it what you want. And that scares the shit out of you, doesn’t it?”

“No.” His voice was hard and flat, warning me away from this topic of conversation, but I couldn’t let it go. 

“Your last girlfriend was a surgeon. That’s a great job, that’s like the _best_ job, but she wasn’t putting her life on the line to protect people.”

“You don’t know what I’m feeling!”

“I _do._ ” I stalked forward, ignoring the low pain in my leg, and jabbed a finger at his chest. “When Pepper was…” I couldn’t say ‘alive’. “Some shit went down, she ended up using an Iron Man suit. Eventually I built one just for her. She was already a goddamned superhero in my eyes, but I guess she just wanted to able to drag my sorry ass out of trouble. So I gave her a suit.” 

I still remembered every single second of that nightmare, not least because I still relived them _in_ my nightmares. Aldrich Killian represented the kind of monster I could have become if Pepper hadn’t come into my life. He’d been consumed by his projects, losing all sight of whatever humanity he’d once possessed. I’d been instrumental in that downward spiral – in fact I’d pretty much been the inciting incident – and that fact would always haunt me.

“And then she died,” Stephen croaked. “You loved her, and she died.”

We stood in the middle of the kitchen and stared at each other.

“Yeah.” I could barely get the word out around the lump in my throat. 

“It’s… it’s always going to be this way, isn’t it?” He shook his head. “In our line of work…”

He didn’t have to finish that statement. I understood what he was trying to say all too well, and until now, I’d done a fine job avoiding that line of thinking completely. But he was right: - we risked death on a daily basis. Unless one or both of us hung up our capes, it was always going to be that way.

“I can’t see either of us retiring,” I said, trying to control the shake in my voice. “So if this is gonna be a problem for you, you should just leave now. We’ll go back to being frenemies.”

He looked at me for so long – unspeaking, unmoving – that I was seriously beginning to think he really _was_ going to walk away. This was it. Our crunch point. We were done before we’d even really begun.

“I don’t want to do that,” he said eventually. “Actually… I’m not sure I _can_ do that.”

The worry fell away. The fear, the uncertainty. We’d passed the first hurdle. I knew we were still going to have problems (with our personalities, it was inevitable) but in that crazy, giddy moment of absolute relief I felt as if we could get through anything.

“Good,” I growled, then cleared my throat. “Because I’m not sure _I_ can do that, either.”

His smile was faint. Hesitant. But the fact that he _was_ smiling was important.

“I guess we’ll find out what we can do.”

That made me laugh. OK, time for some inappropriate humour, because God knew we needed to lighten this conversation.

“You do realise that sounds like a dirty suggestion.”

His smile became firm. “Oh, yes.”

~~&~~

He didn’t stay much longer – said he needed to go check on Arngeir – but I tempted him to tea and a bologna sandwich. We sat at the table and just… chatted. No shop talk. No relationship talk. Just ordinary conversation. Sports, music, movies, books – we covered all kinds of topics in the time it took to eat a sandwich. We’d talked about all these things before over the last two years, but I don’t think we’d ever had a conversation that wasn’t punctuated by business.

“Remember we were talking about Usreyth’s bones last night?” he asked as he opened a portal back to Kamar-Taj.

“Sure.” We’d talked about a lot of things – a lot of _good_ things – and I recalled them all. Particularly the way it felt to kiss him… to be kissed _by_ him.

“You might want to check your lab.”

“Most guys just give their dates chocolate and flowers,” I laughed. “I like your gift way better.”

He blushed. I was coming to love the way he blushed, the way his pale skin took that delicate pink shade. Part of it was the idea that this man – this confident, assured, powerful man – was still able to blush.

“I didn’t put a bow on it,” he said, ducking his head. “Sorry.”

“Oh jeez. Now I’m disappointed.” I slapped his shoulder. “Thanks, man. Appreciate it. Don’t know if I can incorporate them into my nanite technology, but it can’t hurt to try.”

“Do you, uh…” He cleared his throat. “Dinner tonight?”

I wanted to. I really did. But…

“Sorry… work,” I said. His face fell, though it was clear he was trying to control his expression. “Usreyth’s bones, the LMDs. How about breakfast tomorrow? IHOP? I’m paying.”

He smiled again. “Sounds like a plan.” He hesitated, eyes playing over my face, then leaned in to kiss me on the cheek.

“You’re not getting away that easily,” I said, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him down. I kissed him properly. When we finally pulled apart, he wasn’t just pink, he was red. I felt a little warm in the face myself.

“Till breakfast,” he croaked, and left.


	20. 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony continues his study of the LMD fragments, then turns his attention to analysing Usreyth’s bones. He’s keen to discuss his progress over breakfast the next day, but Stephen doesn’t show.  
> Later, Tony is working on the fragments again when they coalesce into a monster-machine and attack him. Stephen arrives after the LMD has been destroyed, clearly showing signs of his own battle.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, any updates on Richard Montgomery?”

“Nothing concrete. S.H.I.E.L.D have a lead on one of his generals and they’re sending operatives to investigate.”

“Where?”

“Paraguay.”

“Let Fury know I’m available if he needs a hand.” I was way too invested in this and if they needed to bring in the big guns – specifically, mine – I’d be there. “Oh, and ask how he’s getting on with logging on to his network.” Revenge was petty, but oh my God, it was sweet.

“Sending a message now…relaying it through Agent Hill, boss.” 

“Alright. I’ll be in the lab if anyone calls.”

I spent another couple hours with the remains of the LMDs, studying what snippets of code I was able to salvage. The more I looked, the more fragments kept catching my eye. I pulled out each one I saw and floated it on a holo unit, but I still couldn’t make any more sense of them than I could yesterday. _Something_ about those little scraps of code had piqued my attention, and I was damned well going to find out what. 

The primary goal was to find out how Montgomery had negated the suit’s nanite cohesion field. I wasn’t sure if these odds and ends of code had anything to do with that, but they had to have _some_ purpose.

“What _are_ you?” I murmured, standing in front of the floating projections. I flipped them around, changing the order, the sequencing, enlarging or shrinking sections as different scenarios played in my head. 

“They may have no purpose, boss.” F.R.I.D.AY’s observation intruded on my thoughts.

“You mean like remnant code?” I toyed with the idea. “Nah. That’s not Montgomery’s style. Everything has a purpose.”

“ _I_ have remnant code.” Her tone cooled. Whoops. I think I’d just insulted her.

“It’s rude to peek at yourself like that,” I admonished gently. “But your code is special. You evolved. These things that Montgomery makes, they’re nothing like you.”

There. Glowing, yet vague. Should keep her mollified.

“Quite right.” She sounded smug enough that I knew I was safe. Phew.

I grabbed another quick bite to eat when F.R.I.D.A.Y reminded me, then dived back into my work. I turned my attention at last to Usreyth’s bones. Stephen – under F.R.I.D.A.Y’s supervision, as she was quick to tell me – had placed them in suspension on one of the diagnostic units at the back of the lab. They hung in the air, enormous and gleaming white under the artificial laboratory light. I was dubious about whether I could make this work. But as I’d told Stephen earlier, it couldn’t hurt to try.

“Alright,” I said, rubbing my hands together. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, let’s start with a scan. Tell me what these bones are made from. I want an exact composition. Weight, measurements, the lot.”

“Scanning now.”

While she worked – running the pale green diagnostic beam over each bone in turn, giving me a super-fast spectrometric analysis – I crossed my arms and studied Usreyth’s skull. The living dragon’s body had been the size of an elephant, made longer by his tail and neck, but even if you factored in the trunk his head had been much longer than an elephant’s. Two massive eye sockets stared down at me. Above them, set a distance back, a pair of long, thick horns curved and twisted over the thick, dense cranium.

A narrow jaw tapered down to a hooked point. The teeth on that thing… yeah, I still remembered how it felt when the bastard bit me. Who’s laughing now, huh? I’d never been into sport hunting – killing endangered animals just so you could take a selfie was a douche move – but this guy? Yeah, I could happily put that skull over my fireplace.

Usreyth’s skull was goddamned creepy. The way those gaping eye sockets seemed to look at me. If I could turn this asshole into armour – if there was a way I could utilise the bones in my nanites – then I was totally making a helmet to look like his skull. Iron Dragon Mark I, _fuck_ yeah.

I moved to the nearest console. As F.R.I.D.A.Y continued her analysis, I worked up a couple of rough sketches, using the software to refine them into different designs. I stared off into the distance, eyes unfocussed as I considered how to store the new nanites. Would I need an upgrade on the ARC reactor? But… no. There was no reason I couldn’t use the same one. It _did_ only have finite space, but there’d be more than enough for two. In fact, there’d be more than enough for several…

I’d need to modify the housing… add a quick, easy selection method…

“Analysis is complete.” F.R.I.D.A.Y’s voice interrupted my thoughts.

“That was quick.” I looked at my watch. Hours had passed. “Oh…”

“Analysis only took a few minutes. But you looked like you were busy. You should take a break, boss.”

“I’m good.” Actually my leg hurt, my ribs ached, and I had a hell of a headache, but she didn’t need to know that. “Alright, hit me with the results.”

“At least make some coffee and sit down?”

She’d keep nagging until I gave in. I limped over to the coffee maker I kept secreted in the corner of the lab and set it going. A minute or two later I limped back to my workstation. Hoisting myself up onto a stool reminded me that my ribs were still bruised, but at least it took the weight off my leg.

F.R.I.D.A.Y had sent the data to my screen. I sipped the coffee as I watched lines of information. Chemical composition… weight… density… properties…

“Fire resistant, pretty much figured that one,” I muttered. “Cold resistant, that’s good… OK… F.R.I.D.A.Y, is this right?” I poked the screen. “It’s as strong as vibranium?” My most recent suit was made from vibranium. The only metal on Earth with comparable properties was adamantium, and it was similarly rare. 

“That’s what my preliminary tests indicate.”

“ _Yeah!_ ” I punched the air, feeling that old, familiar pull of excitement. The thrill of a new technological challenge. The bones were something I could tinker with – take them apart, find out how they worked, what they could do – and make them into something better. Of course, Usreyth probably already thought they were as good as they could be. But his opinion didn’t count. 

“You should really take a proper break now,” F.R.I.D.A.Y admonished.

“Are you kidding? I’ve got way too much work to do.”

~~&~~

Hours later, I was willing to admit she’d been right. I _should_ have taken a break. In fact I should have taken several breaks, the way she’d kept reminding me; politely, at first, then with decreasing levels of patience. In the end, it was only her threat to invoke the Strange Protocol that made me put my work down. I didn’t want her dragging Stephen out of bed for nothing. Assuming he was even sleeping.

“Your health isn’t ‘nothing’, boss.” F.R.I.D.A.Y had never lost her temper with me – in as much as a highly-evolved AI _could_ lose her temper – but she’d sounded pretty damned close. So I’d caved, grabbed a bite to eat, and collapsed into bed.

This time there were no nightmares. No dreams, at least not that I could recall, and no signs that I’d sweated during the night. Maybe there’d been nothing left in my exhausted brain to dream.

I was, however, still stiff and sore when I woke. A quick peek beneath the dressings revealed that the burns and bite marks were still healing at an accelerated rate. I could most definitely get behind that, especially as, when I walked into the bathroom, my leg didn’t do much more than twinge. 

“Don’t forget you’re meeting Stephen for breakfast,” F.R.I.D.A.Y remarked as I got into the shower.

“Why do you think I’m getting clean rather than just heading straight back to the lab?” I said. Then I wondered if I could squeeze in a few minutes of lab time before breakfast… no, people had to take precedence over projects, even ones as important as this. I’d learned _that_ the hard way.

A hard lump formed in my throat as I wondered what Pepper would make of all this. Not the dragon thing – I could almost hear her asking why I hadn’t recalled the other Avengers from their missions to help – but the Stephen thing. Moving on. Hoping I could be happy with someone else. She’d been what I needed, someone who was never afraid to call me out on my bullshit, and I guess Stephen was like that too. 

She was one of the few people in my personal circle who’d known I was bi. It certainly wasn’t something I advertised – as the CEO of a global corporation, I’d been pretty much indoctrinated to act a certain way – but it wasn’t something I denied myself, either. It was one of the few areas of my life I’d ever learned to be discreet about. Everything else was loud, obnoxious, bright and over-done, but this part of myself I’d kept under wraps.

I was so done with hiding things. When – if? – things progressed further with Stephen, I had no intentions of hiding it.

A wave of possessiveness washed over me, an echo of what I’d felt the first time I’d kissed him. I wanted people to see that we were together. I had no idea whether he was into PDAs, but I sure hoped so, because I wanted to make it very fucking clear he was taken.

If, you know, I didn’t fuck up our relationship first.

“Early days,” I murmured, turning off the shower. “Like, _first_ days.”

“You know you don’t need to talk to yourself,” F.R.I.D.A.Y said.

“Well, my next comment was that I hadn’t even got to second base with Stephen yet,” I said around a grin as I reached for a towel. “Not sure whether you would have wanted to hear that.”

“I want to hear everything about your relationship,” she said, her voice warming. “He’ll be good for you.”

I smiled as I towelled my hair. Yeah. If we could avoid all the pitfalls, all the potential for mistakes and misunderstandings, I was pretty sure he’d be _great_ for me.   
~~&~~

When I got to the IHOP he wasn’t there. I snagged a table and ordered coffee, looking at my watch. Wasn’t like him to be late. In fact, he was usually nauseatingly early. It was early evening in Kamar-Taj. Unless he’d stayed the night at the Sanctuary?

And I’d never know unless I asked. I dialled his number and waited for the call to connect.

Voicemail.

“Huh.” I pulled the phone away from my ear.

“Ready to order, hun?” a waitress asked.

“Oh, uh…” Well, I was hungry, and Stephen wasn’t here. I ordered pancakes, bacon, more coffee, and a muffin.

I waited. He still didn’t show up. I tried not to worry, but it was like telling a river not to run. He either had sorcerer business he couldn’t get out of – in which case, he’d probably have just called to let me know – or he was fighting some inter-dimensional monster with too many teeth. In which case… he’d call when he was ready.

If he was able.

I bit the fork hard, dragging my mind away from those thoughts. This was exactly what we’d talked about last night. But not even knowing where he was… that made it worse.

I ate slowly, hoping that – if I stayed long enough – he’d show. My coffee went cold. I ordered another. 

Finally I had to accept that he wasn’t coming. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y…” I didn’t even know how to frame the question I wanted to ask, didn’t know _what_ I wanted to ask.

“He’s not in this dimension, boss.”

God bless her. She knew me better than I knew myself. 

“Alright.” I swallowed convulsively. “Thanks… I guess? Uh…” I scratched my scalp. “Look, just send him a message, ‘k? Tell him I hope he’s not dead. And that I ate his bacon.”

~~&~~

I threw myself back into work the moment I returned to the lab. I couldn’t let myself think about what Stephen might be doing now. If he wasn’t even on Earth or… in this dimension or… how did that even work? God. I had no idea. I couldn’t help him. I had to trust that he could look after himself, or at least take a couple beefy sorcerers with him to help out.

I lost myself in the scraps of code, staring at them for so goddammed long my eyes started to dry out. The best I could come up with was what they were involved in changing the state of materials, but beyond that I had zip. There weren’t even enough bits of debris left to isolate how Montgomery had been able to negate the nanite cohesion field on my suit. If Alduin hadn’t chomped down on them –

_Be realistic,_ I told myself. _Alduin did you a solid. If he hadn’t gone all big bad wolf, you’d be dead right now. Without your suit – pinned to the floor – you had nothing._

He saved my life because he wanted to fight me himself. How fucked up was that?

_Dragon logic._ The thought whispered through my mind.

Frustrated and more than a little unsettled, I turned my attention back to the dragon armour design, calling up the schematics –

“ _Boss!_ ”

F.R.I.D.AY’s frantic yell was the only warning I had, and it wasn’t enough. As I turned on my stool something hit me hard, driving me to the floor; the impact knocked the air out of my lungs and sent shock-waves of pain rippling along my back, arm and shoulder. 

Instinct made me grab the legs of the stool and push back with my feet, scrabbling to put space between me and whatever had put me on my ass. 

“What the _fuck –_ ”

It came at me again, a giant mechanical spider the size of a goddamned _dog,_ pink, dirt-streaked material stretched over fractured metal struts and clumps of wires. I lashed out with the stool. The blow caught it right in the middle of its distended, oddly-shaped body. A high-pitched shriek filled my ears.

Two huge fangs, each the size of a kitchen knife, erupted from the monster’s body. The metal flowed and roiled like liquid. That told me one thing: - nanite construction. “Oh, you _bastard!_ ” I snarled, suddenly understanding what those chunks of renegade code had been meant for. 

The spider leapt at my face. I dropped the stool and rolled out of the way, trying to scrabble back to my feet, but a sudden sharp weight against my back drove me to the floor again. The monster shrieked. Sharp fangs sliced over my shoulder. I shook it off with a grunt of pain, then crawled away as fast as my knees would take me.

The _clitter-clatter_ of metallic feet on the floor made me stop and turn. It was coming again –

_Intent. Power. Motion._

“ _Fus._ ”

Magic rolled out of me in a tightly focussed wave, smashing into the nanite spider and driving it against a work unit. In the confines of the lab, it smashed the spider, the unit, the computer… the fucking monitor… into pieces.

Grey-black smoke billowed across the lab, triggering the sprinklers. Water sprayed over the mess.

I sagged against the nearest unit and laughed.

~~&~~

F.R.I.D.A.Y cut the sprinklers. I was struggling to my feet, every muscle in my body aching all over again, when a flash of orange light caught my eye. Still high on adrenaline, my hand hovered over the ARC reactor stuck to my chest. My thoughts were a confused jumble. If I’d hit the reactor instead of using Unrelenting Force, F.R.I.D.A.Y wouldn’t be sucking smoke out of my lab. 

The orange light resolved itself into a portal. Stephen staggered through. His clothes were torn (full-on Battle Wizard), the Cloak – untouched – rippling with distress. Several thin, fine cuts marred his face. His wild eyes met mine.

I lurched over to him. Caught his arms. Tried to support him as his knees buckled. The extra weight almost drove me to my knees, but I braced my legs, ignored the pain, and held on.

He seized my face in his scarred hands and kissed me hard, driving his tongue into my mouth. The fierce, primal need spoke to my own, spoke to my need to touch him, to affirm that he was alive, he was safe, and he was with me. Our lips mashed together, tongues battling, neither of us breathing as we revelled in this point of connection. I let go of his arms so I could fist my hands in his tunic, trying to pull him closer; he moved a hand from my face to the back of my head, sliding his fingers through my hair, angling my head to deepen the kiss. He pulled back a fraction – a hair’s breadth, or so it felt like – but enough that his kiss wasn’t bruising.

His teeth grazed my lower lip. I let out a startled gasp. My fingers – still clenched in his tunic – scrabbled to find a way inside; I needed more, more contact, skin on skin, heat on heat. Vital. 

Here. Now. 

_Mine. His._

The first touch of my fingertips on the bare skin of his stomach short-circuited the little clear thinking that remained. His groan was deep, almost feral; he pulled away a few inches, eyes searching my face. He looked as if he was about to ask a question.

I didn’t want him to ask questions. I didn’t want this to stop. I didn’t want to think. I just wanted to feel. I leaned in and kissed him again, gentler this time, sliding my hand over his stomach. He shivered and hauled me closer, trapping my hand between us. The hard shape of his erection pushed against me, driving my crazy desire up a notch; it was so easy to grind my hips against him, creating delicious friction against his dick and mine. His startled breath fanned my face.

The Cloak of Levitation had wrapped itself around us both. Was actively trying to push us together. 

But the spell seemed to have broken. Stephen drew back – further this time – and let me go. The Cloak resisted for a moment but as he moved, it went with him, uncurling from around my body. Instinctively I reached for him, then, as sanity trickled back, I let my hands drop.

He was panting. I was panting. He looked… fuck, he looked _amazing,_ grey eyes wide, puffy lips parted. I wondered briefly if I looked the same.

As sanity came back, so did reality. There were several small, thin, circular cuts on his face, and the sleeves of his tunic were damp with blood. His? Mine?

“You’re bleeding,” I croaked, trying to control my swinging emotions.

“So are you.” His voice was raw.

It was an effort to keep space between us. The embers of my desire were still there, ready to explode into something raw and powerful and maybe a little frightening, but they’d been tamped down by a hard wave of anxiety. He was hurt.

“Medical suite,” we said at the same time.

“Not what I’d pictured for a second date…”

He laughed, startling us both. “I’d get you some chocolates, but I wouldn’t want to get blood stains on the box.”


	21. 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While tending each other’s wounds, Tony explains that Montgomery had concealed a Trojan horse in the LMD fragment wreckage, designed to attack when he was least expecting it. Tony then shows Stephen his new suit designs.  
> They visit Arngeir again. The old man tells them a little about Alduin’s history, and also about Dragonrend, a Shout powerful enough to ground the ancient dragon. They don’t have access to an Elder Scroll to look back through time, but they do have access to the Eye of Agamotto…

It took a while, but we got there, supporting each other. The Cloak was lending a hand or… a hem or… anyway, it supported us both, nudging us back if one or other of us stumbled too far in the wrong direction. Stephen seemed as busted up as I was. It felt so good to hold him. The desire was still there, but the need to take care of him was stronger.

“What happened?” he asked, gesturing for me to strip out of my blood-soaked T-shirt. The Cloak left his shoulders and hovered between us, the collar seeming to turn from him to me and back again as we spoke.

“Never mind me.” I sat on a nearby gurney. As if to mock my words, the new wounds throbbed. “You’re hurt.”

“Cuts, bruises,” he said with a dismissive shake of his head. The Cloak mimed the movement.

“Sure about that?”

“If I was secretly bleeding out I’m not likely to _keep_ it a secret,” he drawled. “Now take your damned T-shirt off.”

“Great chat-up line,” I said, easing the torn and bloody garment over my shoulders and head. I dumped it next to me on the gurney. Mortal injuries were _exactly_ the kind of thing we’d keep secret. “Awesome, amazing, truly the best. I mean –”

“ _Tony._ ” His warning growl was hot.

I grinned, unrepentant. After a few seconds Stephen smiled in return.

“So what happened here?” he asked. The Cloak had found a medical kit, and was handing Stephen things from the box. He laid them out next to me on the gurney.

“Montgomery sent me a fucking Trojan horse,” I sighed. “When I catch up to that piece of shit, I –” My hands clenched into fists. 

“He did something to the LMDs?” Stephen opened a packet of sterile wipes, and started cleaning the bite marks on my shoulders. They stung and itched. “These are pretty deep, by the way. They need stitches.”

“You _bet_ he did something to the LMDs.” Stitches, great. “Those random bits of code? F.R.I.D.A.Y thought they were remnants, that they served no purpose. I _know_ Montgomery, and he doesn’t do a single thing without purpose.” He wiped a little too firmly. I did my best not to react. “The debris turned into a giant fucking spider and came at me. I Shouted the bastard to pieces. Also, kind of broke my lab.”

It bothered me that I’d responded as the Dragonborn rather than Iron Man. My first instinct should have been to suit up, not use magic. But how the hell were you supposed to fight your instincts? This could turn into a problem.

“Explains the puncture wounds. And maybe don’t Shout indoors?” His grey eyes had darkened with worry. “Now hold still, this is going to sting a little.”

A little? OK. _Brace yourself, this is gonna hurt._

“Hate to say it, but Alduin did me a favour,” I growled as he stitched the wounds up. I was sweating. Trying to ignore the pain. His hands were steady as a rock, his magic controlling the shake. “If he hadn’t mostly destroyed the LMDs at the courthouse, there’d have been more viable nanites. Wouldn’t just have been a goddamned spider that came at me.”

Stephen snipped off the surgical thread, gave the wounds a last wipe with a sterile cloth, and covered them with dressings.

“You’re saying Montgomery built a contingency plan?”

“Damn right. He thought the LMDs would kill me at the courthouse. Almost did. They disabled my suit and had me pinned.” The memory shoved itself to the forefront of my brain, making my skin prickle with a fresh wave of sweat. “But he knows I’m resourceful. He built his Trojan program specifically to make a weapon out of whatever wreckage was left.”

In the back of my head, I couldn’t help but admire his cunning. He knew his enemy and he took specific steps to counter me.

What he hadn’t counted on – couldn’t possibly have counted on – was the fact that I was Dragonborn. I had a whole new skillset he knew nothing about.

“Anything else I should see?” he asked eventually, looking at me with eyebrows raised.

“Got a couple more bruises,” I grunted. I was too angry – too sore, after those fucking stitches – to take advantage of his obvious innuendo. “Other than that, I’m fine. What happened to you?” I hesitated. “Missed you at breakfast.” 

“Tentacle demon,” he said shortly. “And I’m fine. More or less.” At my stern look, he relented. “I told you, some bruises, a few cuts. Nothing serious. Honest.”

“Think _I’ll_ be the judge of that.”

~~&~~

“You’ve been busy with Usreyth’s bones,” Stephen remarked as we looked at the mess I’d caused, the ruins of the LMD-spider-thing (which if I had my way, was going to be incinerated) and the ruined equipment.

“Oh, well, you know me,” I said awkwardly, remembering at the last second that, yes, he _did_ actually know me. “Gotta be working on something.”

“You should have been working on rest.”

“Rest doesn’t count.”

He rolled his eyes. “Who made up that rule?”

I poked a thumb at myself. “Are you gonna help me clean this up? Cause, you know, this is kind of your fault.” I had to lean hard on the humour or I’d go nuts. The last half hour had been too intense, in too many different ways.

He sighed, but the glint of relief in his eyes made me wonder if he felt the same way. “What twisted logic makes you think that?”

“You _should_ have been having breakfast with me. If we’d have been at the IHOP, we’d have lingered a while, had a couple more coffees, maybe some more pancakes, and I’d have teased you about carb loading. When the Franken-spider thing activated, I wouldn’t have been there.”

“So sorry,” he drawled. That light in his eyes grew brighter. Yeah. He _did_ feel the same way. “The next time I have to go fight some giant eyeball tentacle thing from the lower reaches of what the hell, I’ll be sure to schedule an appointment first. And you’re conveniently forgetting something.”

“I spent most of my life conveniently forgetting things. You’re gonna have to be a _bit_ more specific than that.”

“The – what did you call it? Franken-spider?” I nodded. “It was probably programmed to attack only when you were there.”

I sagged onto the nearest stool, whatever nervous energy had got me this far dissipating in an instant. Arms crossed, I glared at him.

“Well shit,” I said. “Way to kill my buzz.”

“Are there enough pieces left to study?” He ignored my jibe. I was glad.

“No. I almost disintegrated it. And, as you can see…” I waved an arm across the lab, where DUM-E and some of the service bots were busy cleaning up. “I’ve now got no way to track Richard Montgomery, and no idea how the hell he was negating the nanite cohesion field on my suit.”

“I’ve put out magical feelers,” he said cautiously. “I may be able to find him. No guarantees.”

“At this point I’d take divine intervention.” I hung my head, frustrated all over again at my lack of progress.

“Tony.” He sounded closer. I looked up and there he was, standing in front of me. “Right now, you’ve done all you can. I know you don’t want to hear this, but you have to let it go. At least until you get more information.”

“I know that.” The realisation hung in the pit of my stomach like a lead weight. “I _know_ that. I mean, Fury’s got a team out looking for one of Montgomery’s generals. They’ll come up with something. And when they find him…” My hands clenched into fists again.

“In the meantime, you need to work on something more productive,” he said firmly. “Like the dragon armour.”

“Are you trying to steer me?” I demanded, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“God, no.” It was good to hear his laugh. “That would be like trying to steer the Titanic away from the iceberg. All I’m doing is making a suggestion.”

“Not sure I like being compared to the Titanic,” I growled. “Unless you’re trying to call me a beautiful disaster, of course, in which case, you say the sweetest things.”

That made him laugh again. “If the shoe fits…”

“Of course they fit, they cost three hundred dollars. Which means I basically have to quit my pity-party and get on with things.”

“And Wong said you were slow to get to the point,” he said. “Come on. Show me what you’ve got so far.”

“Oh, _Wong_ said it, did he?”

“Oh, certainly. I mean his voice might have sounded like mine, but it was definitely him.”

“Remind me to revoke your refrigerator privileges,” I growled, hopping off the stool – wincing as the movement jostled my leg, aching ribs and… actually… pretty much every part of me – and stalked over to the station I’d set up to work on the bones.

“Wait, I have refrigerator privileges now?” I heard him hurry after me. Then, “Hang on, what even _are_ refrigerator privileges?”

“You know, when you’re able to walk into somebody’s home and just help yourself to whatever from the fridge.” I called up the suit designs I’d been working on. “I was gonna let you do that. Now, you’re gonna have to _ask_ for a sandwich.”

“Well gosh.” He leaned against the work unit. “Guess I’d better eat before I get here, then.”

“Somehow I get the feeling you’re not taking this seriously, Strange.”

“Oh? Whatever gave you that idea?”

I cracked up. I couldn’t help it, and a second or two later he laughed right alongside me. I just… I _loved_ the way he responded to my banter, the easy way we seemed to be able to shoot things back and forth. Even though we’d been friends a couple of years now, this easiness hadn’t been there long.

“Alright,” I said, shaking my head and pulling myself together. “Back to work. I’ve got a few designs, but there _is_ one I like the best. Assuming, ya know, I can incorporate the bones into my nanite technology. Still working on that.”

“Can I see the designs?”

“Sure. Providing you help me tidy up first.”

It didn’t take long to clear up the wreckage – F.R.I.D.A.Y and DUM-E had done most of the donkey work. We swept the remaining debris into neat piles for DUM-E to remove. All of my data was backed up in triplicate, so I hadn’t lost anything. The bones were undamaged. Given that they were heat resistant and as strong as vibranium, I wasn’t surprised. 

I called up the designs I’d created, throwing them onto a holo display for Stephen to look at.

“Have you picked colour schemes for any of these suits?” he asked, waving a hand to swipe through the images. 

“I’m Iron Man. I already have a colour scheme. Besides, I might not even be able to utilise the bones – I don’t want to get too carried away.”

He snorted. “Multiple designs say maybe you already are.”

I shrugged, conceding the point. 

“This one,” he said a few seconds later.

“Yeah, pretty sure that would be my choice too.”

He’d picked the one with the dragon-skull helmet. The bulk of the suit was unchanged, apart from the addition of some cool pauldrons to give it more of a medieval feel. I’d toyed with the idea of spikes down my spine, but dismissed the idea when I realised they’d mess with the aerodynamics. The dragon helmet – with teeth-filled jaws and narrow, menacing eyes – was OTT enough. 

“Arngeir is recovering well,” Stephen said as I closed the program down. “He wants to speak to you again.”

“Well, isn’t that a surprise,” I sighed. “Alright, let’s get this out of the way.”

“Right now? Shouldn’t you…”

“If you say ‘take a rest’, I’m gonna punch you.” I reached out to tap his chin with a finger. “Right here.”

He reached up, long fingers curling around my wrist. Low heat flared in his eyes.

“You’re injured,” he said, voice throbbing. He was controlling himself, but I still felt the emotions beneath his skin because they mirrored my own. “At least sit down and have a meal.”

I brightened. “You’ll cook something for me?”

He smiled, gently pulling my hand away from his face. “I’m not letting you cook for _me,_ so yeah.” He threaded his fingers through mine. The scar ridges were rough against my own fingers.

“Just an FYI?” I said, leaning forward until there were only inches between us. His eyes darkened, and his tongue flicked out, moistening his lips. “Cook for me, and I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Absolutely noted,” he growled, and kissed me.

~~&~~

A couple hours later – after stuffing my face on a nourishing stew Stephen had seemingly knocked up in five minutes – we went back to Kamar-Taj. It was late evening, well after nine, and colder than the last few times I’d been here. I was glad I’d remembered a sweater, though I was beginning to think a coat might have been better. Stephen – with his thick tunic, the Cloak swirling mystically around his shoulders – showed no signs that he’d even noticed the cold. Asshole.

I left the crutch behind. My leg was throbbing like a bitch after the earlier attack, but I was determined not to use the crutch again unless I actually broke a goddamned bone.

When Stephen led me to Arngeir’s room, the old guy was out of bed and sitting at a small table, studying a print-out of the dragon burial mounds. He wore dark grey robes as if he’d been born in them.

“Dragonborn,” he said, looking up from the map. His voice was considerably stronger now. “It is good to see you again.”

“You’re looking better,” I said, taking the seat opposite, stifling a sigh of relief as I stretched my leg out. “Sounding better, too.”

“I recover my strength by the day.” He fixed me with watery blue eyes. “You’ve been using your Shout.”

“Yeah.” My tone was sombre. “If the other Shouts are as powerful as this one, I’m glad I only have one.”

“A Dragonborn who doesn’t seek out power,” he said, stroking his wild beard. “You will go far, Tony.”

I made a noncommittal noise. “You wanted to talk to me again.”

“Indeed. Now that you are familiar with your origins and your abilities, we must turn our attention to defeating Alduin.”

“Yeah, meant to ask you about that,” I said. “What made him come to Earth? Why not stay on Nirn?”

Arngeir’s already-serious face tightened, deep emotions rolling behind his eyes. 

“He killed my Dragonborn,” he said, his tone grave. “Bridget Snow-Shield, the bravest woman I have ever known. A truly extraordinary Nord.” He sighed, and in that sound I heard more sorrow than he could express with words. Whoever this Bridget was, he’d cared for her. “Alduin spread the long shadow his wings across the face of my world, and all the Empires and Dominions fell to his hunger. Now he seeks to expand his influence by travelling the Multiverse.”

I swallowed convulsively, his words driving home like a stake through the heart. Behind me, I sensed Stephen’s tension – he was leaning against the wall, keeping quiet, letting me steer the conversation, but I still felt his tension. It rolled off him in waves.

“You mean right now there are other Dragonborn,” I said solemnly. “And he’s going on a cosmic road trip to kill us all.” It wasn’t just world domination, it was _worlds._

“That is part of it, yes.”

“So how do I kill him first?”

“It is not as simple as just ‘killing’ Alduin.” Arngeir’s voice was gripped by a brief quaver before he controlled it. “He is a being of tremendous power, the closest thing my world has to a living god. To kill a god, you must first remove his power. Once you have driven him out of the sky...”

That made me uneasy in ways I could barely understand, let alone articulate. If you could take away Alduin’s power… could you take away mine? How would that even work?

“I see your confusion, Dragonborn. Let me explain. The champion on my world had planned to locate an Elder Scroll, but –”

Stephen’s sharp intake of breath made me turn in my seat. Normally pale, he now looked like an echo of himself, pale and washed out.

“What is it?” I demanded, turning in my seat.

“The Elder Scrolls exist?” He strode over to the table, leaning over it, bracing his hands on the map as he stared at Arngeir. “They’re real?”

“As real as you or I. Bridget was searching Skyrim for one, and I believe she had located the ruins in which it had been concealed. But Alduin killed her before she could retrieve it.”

“Stephen?” I asked, feeling left out of the conversation. 

He let out a shuddery breath, straightening, looking at me with hooded eyes.

“There are passing references to the Scrolls in Kamar-Taj’s library,” he said. “They’re… hell, saying they’re ‘items of power’ doesn’t do them justice.” He rubbed his chin. “They provide glimpses into the flow of time. They record all possible events, parallel timelines. Branching realities.” His eyes flicked back to Arngeir, hard and calculating. The shock was gone. I was staring at the Sorcerer Supreme, powerful, knowledgeable… and sexy as hell. “You planned to utilise a Scroll.”

“Alduin was defeated once before,” Arngeir said. “Though the reprieve was only temporary. Dragons were terrible and cruel, but not all their kind thought as Alduin did, or acted as he did. In our distant history one individual – a dragon called Paarthurnax – taught his language to humans.”

I thought through the implications of that. “So this dude – Party Snacks, or whatever you called him – basically taught humans how to Shout?” I didn’t need to see Stephen’s face to know he’d be rolling his eyes.

“Paarthurnax.” Arngeir’s tone cooled a fraction. “And yes, he taught a select few the fundamentals. He is the leader of our order, the founder of the Greybeards –”

“You said ‘is’,” I interrupted. “As in, is still alive. After how many thousands of years?”

“Dragons live until they are killed. Paarthurnax removed himself from draconic power struggles and took the path of redemption.”

His words struck a chord. Turning yourself around – striving to be a better person (or dragon) than the asshole you’d been – yeah, _that_ I understood.

“He didn’t try to fight Alduin?”

“He could have fought,” Arngeir conceded. “And he could, perhaps, have won. But by doing so he would have incurred the wrath of the rest of his kind, and his death would have been both swift and terrible. But by passing on the power of the Thu’um, he gave humanity the tools to free themselves.”

It was kind of a ‘teach a man to fish’ analogy. But to me, it also felt cowardly. It might have made the best strategic sense, but Party Snacks had chickened out from the fight of his life and instead convinced a whole bunch of other people to do his dirty work.

“Alright,” I grunted, deciding to leave aside issues of morality. “So how can people Shout if they don’t have a dragon soul to, like, power their Thu’um?”

“Through a lifetime’s contemplation,” Arngeir explained. “I mentioned the Greybeards spend their lives learning a single word of a single Shout, yes?” I nodded. “There were a few extraordinary individuals – Gormlaith Golden-Hilt, Hakon One-Eye, and Felldir the Old – who combined words into a Shout that had never before been heard before. One that required no dragon soul to power, as it had not been created by them.”

“Not sure I get you there, buddy.”

“All languages evolve. The youths of my world combine words to create new things. Does this not happen in your world, too?”

“Oh. Right.” Now I felt dumb. “So what did this Shout do?”

“The Shout – Dragonrend, it was called – forced the concept of mortality into the draconic mind. Understanding it weakened them and drove them out of the skies. It was used on Alduin, at the highest point in Skyrim, the fabled Throat of the World. Gormlaith and her companions then used the Power of the Scroll to cast him forward in time.”

“Where he found Bridget and killed her,” I finished. Nausea rippled through my stomach, and I began to sweat. “Jesus! Things aren’t looking too good for me, huh?”

“Dragonborn are the only ones who can defeat Alduin.” Arngeir’s voice was urgent; he leaned forward over the table and gripped my wrist. “You _must_ fight. There is still hope.”

“What had Bridget planned to do with an Elder Scroll?” Stephen asked. I heard a rustle of cloth as he moved closer, felt the faint aura of heat as he stood behind me. The brush of his knuckles against my shoulders as he gripped the back of my chair. I drew strength from the contact, using it to ground me.

“Knowledge of Dragonrend had been lost,” Arngeir explained. “She was going to use the Scroll to look back through time, to the moments before Alduin was cast forward.”

“Why wasn’t he killed back then? Why send him forward?” His voice hardened. “Why push their problem off onto another generation?”

“You of all people know that it is not a simple thing to kill a dragon.” Arngeir’s tone now was bleak. “Alduin was their king, their god. This was humanity’s final recourse.”

“Was there a Dragonborn back then?” I demanded. “What was he doing, sitting on his ass? Why didn’t _he_ go after Alduin?”

“That, I’m afraid, is a tale for another time.” Arngeir was starting to sound as tired as I felt. “For now, we must focus on recovering Dragonrend.”

“So we’ve got this real simple plan,” I said, trying so hard not to sound sarcastic, knowing I’d failed. “Find an Elder Scroll. Time-hop to the Throat of the World to find this special Shout, fight Alduin, don’t die.” I laughed. It was on the edge of hysterical. “Simple.”

“Actually, it _is_ simple.” Stephen’s shrug caught me by surprise. “Bridget Snow-Shield might have needed a Scroll, but _we_ don’t.”

“Come on, man, I don’t have the energy for mystic riddles…”

“We need to look back through time.”

My eyes opened wide as understanding dawned. “Oh, you beautiful bastard.”


	22. 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a tongue-lashing from Fury, Tony volunteers to help Stephen find a way to complete the time-hop. Later, he continues his study with Usreyth’s bones.

Stephen opened a portal back to the Avengers’ Compound.

“You’re quiet,” he said as he closed the portal behind us. I headed straight for the kitchen and the coffee machine.

“Hm.” 

“Talk to me?”

I liked that he asked, rather than demanded. That was a good sign. Our personalities were so similar that I knew we’d clash; it was inevitable, but what wasn’t inevitable was how we dealt with those clashes.

“I’m scared,” I admitted. We had to be honest with ourselves, and honest with each other. “Actually I’m terrified.” I tried to smile. It was strained.

“Me, too.” His answering smile was just as strained.

“Well shit,” I drawled. “If the Sorcerer Supreme is about to shit his pants, we’re all screwed.”

That startled a laugh out of him, as I’d hoped. 

“Being frightened is healthy,” he said. “It means you understand exactly what you’re getting in to. You understand the risk. And you understand the rewards.”

“The reward is that Alduin doesn’t use our world as his personal stomping ground. Also, I don’t get eaten. Kind of big on that one.” I started making coffee, each movement automatic, using the work as a way to keep my hands busy. If Stephen hadn’t come back with me I would have headed straight to the lab. I didn’t deal with anxiety well. Which was ironic, considering my job was one tight, knotty ball of anxious. 

“Kind of big on that one myself.” 

There was a faint tremble in his voice, and it made me forget all about the coffee as I turned around. This was big. One – or both of us – could die.

“We’ll get through this,” I said, crossing the kitchen to stand in front of him. I hesitated, then gripped his shoulder. “Alduin doesn’t belong here. This is _our_ world. We all know what happens to aliens who think they can invade Earth.”

His grey eyes were dark and troubled. He reached out with a shaking hand and cupped the side of my face. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to – it was there in his eyes, and the way he touched me. 

~~&~~

“Boss, I’ve got Director Fury on the line,” F.R.I.D.A.Y said later, as we were finishing our coffee. “Shall I send him to voicemail?”

“I’d better take it,” I said, grimacing. Stephen was watching my face.

“Connecting now.”

“Fury,” I said. “How ya doin’, Cueball?”

“You asshole!” he growled. “If we didn’t need you so much, I’d march right over there and beat the ever-loving shit out of you!”

Stephen eyed me curiously, the tilt of his head indicating a silent question: - what had I done to piss Fury off now? 

“You could certainly try,” I laughed. It was a forced laugh. “Next time, don’t disable my AI just to break into my house.”

“You locked me out of S.H.I.E.L.D, motherfucker!”

“I’m sorry, am I going to have to keep repeating myself?” I risked a look at Stephen. His lips twitched; he was trying not to grin, but his eyes were shining. “You _disabled my goddamned AI and broke into my home._ Now what the hell do you want?”

There was a moment of silence. A moment in which I imagined Fury was biting something, or crushing something to dust, or driving his fist into a wall. It was a pleasant image. 

“Tell me you’ve made progress with those LMD fragments. I need a win here, Stark.”

I grimaced again. “Montgomery planned for every eventuality,” I said, knowing this conversation was going to end badly. “He planted a Trojan horse in the wreckage. Damned things turned into a spider and attacked me. There’s… nothing left.”

Another silence. “So you’ve got nothing. No leads on Montgomery. No way to find him.”

“I’m not the only one looking!” I snapped. “Don’t put this all on me!”

Fury sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll be in touch.” He ended the call.

Stephen and I stared at each other, shocked. Fury didn’t apologise. Like, ever. To hear it now was surely indicative of the stress he was under. Either that, or – as my cynical mind reminded me – he was worried he’d lose our support.

I wouldn’t say I’d ever actively supported S.H.I.E.L.D. The battles I’d fought as part of the Avengers’ Initiative had been to keep my country safe and, later, my planet. I would have got involved regardless of whether S.H.I.E.L.D had asked.

But I certainly wasn’t working against them.

~~&~~

“So what happens next?” I asked.

“Same thing we do every night, Tony – we try to save the world.”

I gave him a long, suspicious look. “Did you just make a really garbled _Pinky and the Brain_ reference?”

He rolled his eyes. “I _adapted._ Only common people quote verbatim.”

“Ha! Let me go sit with all the common people, then.” I was tired – bordering on exhaustion again – but rest had never seemed so far away. So he watched cartoons, huh? Good to know. 

“Nothing about you has ever been common.”

I blushed. I couldn’t help it. Heat spread across my face, pooling in my cheeks, and I ducked my face rather than let him see how much his compliment affected me. Although – judging from his half-smile – he already knew. 

“I need to go work some more on my dragon armour,” I said. “So unless you’ve got, like, a concrete plan to save the day…”

“You need to eat first.” 

“Tentacle demon. Right back at ya.” Oh, right, he’d offered to cook dinner! My brain was fizzing. Too much information. And the looming threat of killing another dragon – taking his soul… feeling that rush of power again… it excited me. And _that_ scared me. 

“Go sit down, I’ll get something going in the kitchen.” 

Because I was contrary and didn’t take orders well, I followed after him, leaning against the wall as I watched him heading for the fridge.

“Are my refrigerator privileges restored?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow. “And will you sit down already?” Seeing my mulish expression, he added, “Please?”

“Knock yourself out,” I said, sinking gratefully into a dining chair. I filed away the fact that he’d said ‘please’ for later, the way it made me feel. The warmth. That was two or three times now he’d requested rather than demanded. He understood how I worked. And… he cared about me. 

He started rummaging in the cupboards for food. I watched him, the graceful way his body moved. The way his hands shook. Skilled, yet flawed. Super, yet still so very human. Then I realised what I was actually doing was ogling. I didn’t look away, but I did hide my grin.

“So what _is_ the plan?” I asked. “If there’s another five dragons out there as well as Alduin, I should recall the Avengers.” Especially as I might need help taking another one down. They hadn’t even risen yet, and I was considering ways to kill them.

“I don’t think that’s wise.” He was chopping vegetables. Now, his hands were steady, the knife sliding quickly and smoothly through the bell peppers. “If you pull them back, whoever they’re trying to apprehend will use the destabilisation caused by the dragons to further their own agendas.”

I saw the sense in that. There was a time I would have argued with his logic, for no other reason than I wanted to argue, but there was too much at stake to let myself become that kind of person again.

“Agreed,” I said.

He turned around, knife pressed to the chopping board, grey eyes wide. 

“Don’t look so surprised,” I grumbled. “I _can_ see common sense. You might have to kind of smush it in my face to make me see it, but I’m not a complete idiot.”

“No.” He turned back, picked the knife up again. “You’re not. Ninety, ninety-five per cent, tops.”

“What does that make you?” I said tartly, stung by the jibe. 

“The one hundred per cent idiot who’s pretty sure he’s falling for you.”

A warm feeling rose up inside me again, swelling in my chest, rapidly turning into something hot enough to burn. This was the most overt comment he’d made about his feelings. It wasn’t just exciting, it was… For a moment I was delirious, my head somewhere in the clouds until I yanked myself back to Earth. I eased out of the seat – leg throbbing – and hobbled over to him, picking up another bell pepper and pulling a knife off the rack.

“Guess that makes two of us, then,” I said. It came out on a breath. Uncontrolled, but a reflection of the way I felt. When I risked a glance into his face his eyes seemed to burn, grey pools of fire, and what little breath I had vanished. He put his knife down at the same moment I downed mine. We reached for each other at the same moment, kissed each other at the same moment, lips pressing roughly together, his tongue wet against mine.

When he finally pulled back, the fire in his eyes had morphed. Embers rather than flames. It echoed the warmth in my chest. I smiled, kissed him once more, and turned back to my chopping.

~~&~~

We didn’t talk much again until after dinner. I helped him with the prep, moving around him in the kitchen, following his instructions and doing what I could not to get in his way. We didn’t kill the meal, so I guess I must have been doing something right.

“I’m going to use the Eye of Agamotto,” he said eventually as we lingered over dessert. It was just a simple fruit cocktail with fresh cream, but right now it was my favourite thing in the whole world. Part of that (hell, _all_ of that) was because we’d prepared it together. The feeling of domesticity, of building something between us… of mattering to someone… I fucking loved that. Money, power – none of it meant shit if nobody cared about you. You were just miserable in style.

“Let me help,” I said.

He gave me a long, thoughtful look. I was pretty sure I knew what he was thinking: - using the Eye was dangerous, and it could have unforeseen consequences.

Well, my whole life after Afghanistan was basically one long unforeseen consequence, too. I wasn’t going to let him do this alone.

“Actually,” he replied, “I _do_ think I’m going to need your help.”

“Holy shit,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “We’re started agreeing with each other. Is the world about to implode?”

“Never mind the world, my _head’s_ about to implode.” He massaged his temples. 

It was on the tip of my tongue to comment that I knew just the way to make his headache go away, but I held back. Shyness – something I wasn’t used to feeling – kept the words unspoken. With all my previous partners, including Pepper, I’d never felt this way. _I’d_ been the one in control. The driving force. This time? Neither of us were in control. We were both wary, both shy. 

I was beginning to think it was a good thing. 

~~&~~

He left a little later. We hovered around each other, inching closer, each unsure about how to move in for what we wanted. A goodbye kiss. It would have been funny if it hadn’t felt so awkward. 

But when he finally reached for me – when his trembling fingertips brushed over mine – the awkwardness vanished as if it had never existed. His warmth called to mine, our fingers twining, and he pulled me close against him.

His kiss was soft and gentle. Almost hesitant. I wanted the passion, the raw desire, from our earlier kiss. When I’d destroyed the nanite spider and he’d come storming into my lab intent on saving the day. But maybe, outside of combat or dragon-magic, that passion didn’t exist between us?

But as soon as the fear crossed my mind, it vanished. His arm curled around my waist. The warmth flared to heat. He deepened the kiss, his tongue searching for mine, and I eagerly responded.

When we finally broke apart, that fire was back in his eyes. And when he left it was tinged with reluctance.

~~&~~

I forced myself back into the lab despite F.R.I.D.A.Y’s strongly-worded protestations. I had to make my dragon armour as soon as possible. If I was lucky, that would be before the next attack.

Picking the design wasn’t even half the work. I had to figure out how to work with Usreyth’s bones. After studying F.R.I.D.A.Y’s breakdown of the composition, it was possible to brainstorm a couple of ideas. 

Utilising them as nanites would be a harder process. I wasn’t even sure it was possible; nanites were a manufactured substance, metallic components –

Hang on… I could make an alloy. Vaporise the bones, bind them to a metallic core. Might work…

I had to stop a few hours after I started running simulations. Exhaustion clawed at my brain, making my thoughts sluggish. My body ached and my eyes burned. I didn’t need F.R.I.D.A.Y to nag me to go to bed; my feet were already taking me there, and as I landed face-first on the pillows, my brain gratefully shut off.


	23. 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Stephen discuss building a rig to increase and focus the power of the Eye of Agamotto. While Tony works on the rig, he asks Peter to work on a device to vaporise Usreyth’s bones and bond them to nanites.  
> Stephen suggests Tony sit out their trip back through time, even though Tony has to go back to see Dragonrend. It causes a blazing argument.

I clawed my way out of another nightmare. The first grey light of dawn pushed through the chinks in my curtains. I stared at that grey-white wedge on the bedroom floor, resentful without really knowing why, then rolled out of the sweat-damp bed.

I felt a lot less resentful after a hot shower. I threw on fresh jeans and a T, then followed my nose: - the scent of brewing coffee told me someone was here. Toast, the tea I’d bought for Stephen, and – oh my God – frying eggs. 

“Remind me to teach you how to cook,” Stephen said as I entered the kitchen. He’d gone for Casual Wizard again, but this time the tunic and pants were a dark shade of green. “How’s your leg?”

“Getting better every day,” I said truthfully. At his sharp-eyed look, I added, “Scout’s honour.”

“You never were a Scout.”

“Alright, you got me. But my leg’s doing OK. The burns are still sore, but they’re on the mend.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Sit, eat,” and he slid a plate onto the table, “I’ll change your dressings, then we’ll talk about the Eye of Agamotto.”

“Yes, sir!” I said, snapping off a quick salute. I eased into a seat. “Right away, sir!”

“One of these days,” he said, leaning down and swiftly brushing his lips over mine, “that mouth is going to get you into trouble.”

I hooked a hand around the back of his neck, holding him in place long enough for a more thorough kiss. Last night’s shyness seemed to have gone – at least for now.

“The good kind of trouble?” I asked, eyebrows rising hopefully.

His lop-sided grin was the perfect answer.

~~&~~

Turned out my leg, and the burns, _were_ doing OK. Stephen changed the dressings with quick, deft movements, smearing on more of the balm he’d brought with him. It was impossible not to get a hard-on when he touched me like this, even though the wounds stung and itched. Just having him near – having his hands on me – short-circuited my pain receptors. I didn’t make any effort to hide my reaction, and Stephen, for his part, didn’t make any effort to hide the fact that he was checking me out. Even when he’d finished and the pain crept back again, my erection took its own sweet time to fade.

“So what have you got planned with that fancy green hunk of rock?” I asked eventually. “I mean, can we just, I don’t know, rub it for luck? Or is it more like Hermione Granger’s Time Turner?”

“Sure,” he drawled. “Turn it three times, you get to take Arithmancy _and_ History of Magic.”

I clasped my hands beneath my chin and fluttered my lashes. “Well colour me impressed.”

“I colour you an idiot,” he said, but he was grinning. I loved that grin. Every time he did it just highlighted the fact that he didn’t do it enough. “The Eye of Agamotto utilises magic to send people backward and forward through time. It might also be possible to do something similar using the quantum realm, but the technology required hasn’t even been developed yet. The Eye, however, already exists. But…” He hesitated.

“But what?”

“It would be a two-part journey. We need to travel several thousand years back in time – and then jump to another world.”

“Oh, is that all?” I grinned. “A little time-travel, a little world-hopping, simple. No biggie.” The grin faded; I couldn’t sustain it for more than a few seconds before reality kicked in. I met Stephen’s serious grey eyes. “How can I help?”

“There are no records of the Eye being used to travel so far back in time. I believe it can be done, but we need a way to boost the Eye’s power. Reflection, refraction…”

“You need something built?”

“I have a few ideas. But I don’t have the technical expertise to carry it through. You do.”

I grabbed his shoulder and squeezed. “Talk dirty to me, baby.”

~~&~~

If I was working on Stephen’s project, I’d have no time to work on a machine capable of atomising the dragon bones and bonding them with nanites. Both were equally important. It was time to call for back-up.

“Oh my _God,_ ” Peter exclaimed, eyes widening, “are those _dragon bones?_ ”

His surprise was gratuitous. I liked being able to surprise him, liked that open look of wonder on his face; at times like this, I felt close to him, more like the father-figure I should be. I might have bull-dozered my way into his life, but I was wise enough to know I was still _in_ his life because he let me be here. He was still so young, but in a lot of ways he was wiser than his years, and the day I stopped providing what he needed – that mentorship, someone he could look up to – our relationship would change. Maybe for the worse. Maybe for the better. After all, he wouldn’t need a mentor for long. But I wasn’t quite ready for my fledgling to leave the nest. Maybe… maybe I needed _him_ more than he needed me.

And what did I get out of it? Knowing I could be responsible. Knowing there was at least one other person in the world who knew me – I mean, _really_ knew me – and still looked up to me.

“They are indeed dragon bones,” I said. “They’re fireproof, hard as vibranium. I’m trying to figure out a way to make a suit out of him.”

“Cool!” His eyes lit up, and Jesus, it was like Christmas day. 

“Wanna take a look at the plans? I haven’t quite worked out how to incorporate the bones into a nanite design, so…”

“Oh, I am _all_ over that shit,” he said, face set with determination.

I put my arm around his thin shoulders and led him to the nearest terminal, heart swelling with pride. We weren’t related by blood, but my _God_ – he was my kid. He had the same drive, the same determination, the same razor-sharp technological intellect. 

I just had to make sure he didn’t have my tendency to self-destruct.

~~&~~

When Peter was busy reviewing the dragon armour project, I led Stephen over to another terminal.

“It’s good to see you again, Stephen,” F.R.I.D.A.Y said.

“The feeling’s mutual.” His smile was soft and diffuse, aimed at nowhere. 

“Stop flirting with my boyfriend,” I muttered, the words out before I could stop them. When I realised what I’d said, I chanced a look at Stephen’s face, assessing what he thought at my use of the ‘b’ word.

His eyes played over mine, intense, fire rising from the depths. A look – a single look – was enough to give me an erection, and I fixed the memory of his expression in my memory.

“I’m sure she was just being polite,” he said, without taking his eyes off my face. I felt as if I was pinned to the spot. “When someone flirts with you, I’m sure you’ll recognise it.”

“Right,” I croaked. “For sure.” I cleared my throat. “Totally recognise it.” What I wouldn’t give for a little alone time with him right now. But… time to get my head back in the game.

~~&~~

“So we’re looking for a way to make the Eye of Agamotto more powerful,” I said, drawing Stephen off to another work station and pulling up a spare stool for him. “You mentioned reflection and refraction, but I need a bit more to go on than that.” I reached into a drawer and pulled out a tablet, digging around for a stylus.

We spent half an hour sketching out a design. The Eye emitted its own magical light; according to him, if we were able to direct that light back into the Eye, it would enhance the device’s power. I had no frame of reference to either agree or dispute that, so I just accepted it. After a few tweaks, the final design featured the Eye at the centre of eight large feather-shaped fans of turquoise glass. A specific shade of turquoise, no less, something to do with magical resonance. I didn’t even pretend to understand… though I had to admit my interest was piqued.

“You’re taking this a lot better than I did,” Stephen said, as we added the last touches to the design.

“Huh?”

“A discussion on magical theory. The first time someone tried to explain it to me, I was… well, let’s just say I didn’t come out of that conversation too well.”

That, I could imagine. “Got a bit of an advantage. I don’t need to be convinced to believe in magic, because I know it’s real.” I thought of Unrelenting Force. “And because I know I can use it. But let me guess – someone handed you your ass, right? In a very magical way.”

His smile was sour. “Indeed. Ever since the accident,” and he held up his trembling hands, “I’ve spent every waking moment learning that the world doesn’t work the way I thought. I’m still learning that.” He hesitated. “You know, I’ve always admired you. Might not have always _liked_ you, but I’ve always admired you.”

I felt my face burn again. “Not that I’m not glad,” I said, “but why?”

“Because you see the world doesn’t work the way you thought, and you make something – tinker with something – that _changes_ the world. And you do that without magic.”

His words were simply delivered, but they still hit me under the ribs. His eyes met mine. I couldn’t look away.

“That’s one of the things I like about you,” I croaked. “You see me. The real me.” 

His smile was teasing. “And I’d like to see more.”

Oh boy. “I’m, uh, I’m sure that can be arranged.” _Come on, Tony, you can flirt better than this. Jesus._ “But I think right now, we need to take a break.” 

~~&~~

On the way to the kitchen for snacks and drinks, I checked in with Peter.

“This design is, like, totally cool,” he said, swiping his finger over the holo projections of my dragon suit. 

“Thanks. If I had more time, I could do more with it, but I’m sure it’s functional. I’ve added higher tolerances for heat and cold, even added electrical resistance. I have no idea exactly what Alduin can throw at me.”

“I think I might have figured out a way to bind the bones to a metallic nanite structure…”

He had my full, undivided attention. I listened as he talked me through the process. When he laid it out like that, it seemed so simple, and I slapped my forehead.

“This is what happens when you drive tired, kiddo,” I said. “Sometimes you fly, but most often you crash and burn.” I squeezed his shoulder. “That’s brilliant. Think you can build the equipment to do this?”

His eyes widened. “You trust me to do that?”

“Wouldn’t let you in the lab if I didn’t trust you. Talk to F.R.I.D.A.Y, she’ll get you what you need.”

“Cool!” For a moment, I thought he was going to bounce off his seat, but he took a breath and composed himself. “How’re you guys getting on with your project? Can I help with that?”

“Getting there. Couple more hours, maybe we’ll be done.”

“OK. Mind if I keep working on this, then?”

“Knock yourself out. I mean not literally, if I take you home with like a cracked chin or something May’s gonna kill me, but figuratively speaking –”

“On it,” he interrupted with a grin, turning back to the terminal.

I left him with a grin of my own and went to find refreshments.

~~&~~

I came back with coffee and tea, soda, bags of chips and candy bars, taking it slow as I carried the tray so I didn’t put undue stress on my leg. It still hurt, but I knew I’d be able to use it in combat – providing I didn’t overuse it right now. I made a point of sitting down.

“So if we’re going back in time a couple thousand years,” I said, finally giving voice to some of the fears I’d had over the last few hours, “does that take us back to the exact point we left? Like, geographically speaking?”

“Yes.” The openness I’d seen in his eyes over the previous few hours seemed to vanish. “Upstate New York.”

“So, forests, mountains, lakes?”

“Yes.”

“Bears?”

“Probably.” His eyes narrowed.

“Sabre-toothed tigers?”

“Where are you going with this?”

“Just trying to work out whether it’s likely to be dangerous,” I said, trying not to let his irritation stoke my own.

“It’s bound to be dangerous.” His tone was brisk, almost dismissive. The irritation I was trying to contain broke out in a flash. “We’ll be there only long enough to open a portal and step through. What concerns me more is what we’ll find on Nirn.”

“Arngeir came through his own portal. Almost killed him.” We hadn’t talked about this part of the plan yet, focussing only on getting ourselves so far back in time.

“His use of magic is severely restricted.” Stephen’s tone had hardened. Surprise, surprise, he didn’t like being questioned. “His magical knowledge base is the Thu’um. I’m the Sorcerer Supreme and my knowledge base is _everything._ ”

“Wow, look at you being all humble and shit,” I said, before I could stop myself. “Do you know how fucking arrogant you sound right now?”

He let out a short, almost bitter laugh. “It’s not arrogant if it’s true. It would be like comparing yourself to a local handyman. There _is_ no comparison.”

“Doesn’t make that handyman’s knowledge any less valid,” I growled. “Nor does it make me any better than him.” I’d been in the position where I’d had virtually nothing, and he _knew_ that, although I hadn’t given him the specifics. You got the job done with what you had. 

“How’s your leg?” he asked, changing tack. His eyes were still flashing, and it was clear he didn’t agree with me, but I appreciated him dropping the topic. That didn’t mean it wasn’t likely to come up again – would almost certainly come up again, and would probably cause a spirited argument, if not an outright argument – but we had more important things to deal with right now. This, here, was a precursor of what our relationship could turn into… if we let it.

I didn’t want it to be like that.

“The leg’s fine,” I said. It was only then I realised my hand was unconsciously massaging the healing flesh of my calf. The movement had drawn his attention.

He studied my face for a moment, lips slightly parted, clearly hesitating. I might have imagined it but I thought I saw a spark of anxiety sharpen the grey in his eyes.

“What?” I demanded. Wasn’t like him to hesitate about anything.

He drew a short, hard breath. “Maybe you should sit this one out.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I mean, maybe you should stay here.”

“You’re trying to side-line me?” This time it wasn’t just irritation flaring in the back of my head, it was anger. “What the fuck?”

“I’m not trying to side-line you.” His nostrils flared, a sure sign of his own annoyance. Well, boo-hoo. “But look at this from a practical point of view. You’re injured. We’re not just going back in time, we’re going to another _world._ ”

“Uh, hello! I’m an Avenger! I don’t walk away from situations just because I have a few ouchies!” Even if the situation was, frankly, terrifying. “And I’m Dragonborn – I _need_ to see how this stupid Shout was used so I can learn it!”

“You got bitten and burned by a dragon!” His eyes were flashing. “That’s hardly ‘a few ouchies’!” He was glowering. “And I can record the goddamned Shout!”

“I don’t walk away from a fight,” I growled, stabbing a finger at his chest. “Or from my responsibilities. _Ever._ That’s not what we do!”

“I’m not asking you to walk away, just to sit this one out! Why are you being so stubborn about this?”

“Oh, _I’m_ being stubborn?” My voice was rising, barely controlled emotions bubbling to the surface. Who’d have thought a stupid argument could hurt so much?

“Come on, Tony, please. Can you just see reason –”

“Oh, I’m gonna see reason all right,” I snapped, getting off the stool. As if to underline his argument, pain stabbed up my leg as I put weight on it. “I’m gonna see it all the way over there.” I pointed to the door, then – awkwardly – stalked away.


	24. 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony realises Stephen’s hostility comes from concern rather than doubt over his abilities, and they each make a point of explaining how they feel.  
> They begin clearing lab space to work on the rig and manufacturing components. Tony has an epiphany that helps him cope with the concept of magic.

I flounced out of the lab, heading for the kitchen. Yeah. I said flounced. I wasn’t proud of it, wasn’t proud of myself, but I couldn’t get past the way Stephen’s request made me feel. I was injured and he thought I was weak. _Weak._ The word banged around the inside of my head, throbbing behind my eyes, hurting a little bit more with each impact. Why the fuck did it hurt so _much?_

By the time I reached the kitchen, the throbbing behind my eyes had translated into a physical burn. I fought the urge to cry, pressing the heels of my hands against my face. I was a goddamned adult! Emotionally mature! Stable! _So get your shit together, Tony._

I let out a shaky laugh, bracing myself against the nearest unit. What was I saying? I was a mess. Even before Stephen and I had become a thing, long before our spiky friendship, I’d been a mess. The only thing that had changed was that now he saw what I’d been trying to hide. And then he’d realise he’d made a horrible, terrible mistake, and that would be it.

“Tony...”

Stephen’s voice jerked me out of my miserable introspection. I fixed my eyes on the counter top, keeping my back to him.

“If you’re gonna pick up where I left off, forget it –”

“I’m sorry,” he said, cutting across me.

That was enough to make me turn around. It was impossible to miss the turmoil not just in his eyes, but written across the tightened muscles of his face.

“It was stupid to suggest you stay behind,” he continued. “Aside from the fact that you ought to be there to witness this Shout first hand, I know you never shirk your duties as an Avenger. I know you can’t walk away from a fight. It’s just…”

“Just what?” I demanded, pushing the words out. A hard knot of tension sat in my chest. Or maybe it was a bomb. 

“I… don’t want you to get hurt.”

I stared at him. This sudden over-protectiveness… did it came from concern, rather than a need to control?

“You know it’s always a possibility,” I croaked. “I don’t want _you_ to get hurt, either. But neither of us go into these situations blind. And, uh… I guess I’m sorry, too. Shouldn’t have waltzed out like that.”

I realised this was another continuation of the conversation we’d had the other morning, after I’d shown him the extent of the Unrelenting Force Shout. That our spat about levels of competency had riled both of us up. He was still trying to come to terms with the fact that someone he cared about could – would, undoubtedly, at some point – get hurt. If he couldn’t get past that…

“So… you’re still in?” The strain hadn’t left his face.

“Of course I’m in,” I said immediately. He had to know the answer to that. “The important question is, are we OK?”

We stared at each other. He didn’t speak. His eyes betrayed his turmoil. Something inside me broke a little – I couldn’t stand to see him like that.

“We’re both fighters,” I said quietly. “We’re both going to get hurt. I’m never going to stop you going off into battle, and you have to understand you can’t stop me either. That doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

“Of course I understand.” His voice throbbed. This was really eating him up, and the next moment he’d crossed the space between us. “We do this _because_ we care, about more than just ourselves. But…” He cleared his throat. “I care about _you,_ too.”

The knot of tension began to unravel. I grabbed his arms. Pulled him closer. Got my hand behind his neck so I could pull his head down.

“Care about you too, idiot. Now shut up and kiss me.”

“We _are OK,_ ” he murmured against my mouth. I flicked my tongue out, impatient, bit his lip. “We’re OK,” he said again, more of a moan this time. His arms snaked around me, pulling me flush against his hard body. Finally he kissed me. The sense of rightness from the contact filtered through my whole body; his warmth dissipated through my frame, relaxing every single tense muscle.

“We’re OK,” I agreed, ending the gentle kiss with reluctance for the greater reward of burying my face against the side of his neck. His scent filled my nose, coiled up into my brain, and into the primal, primitive part of me that had reacted to absorbing Usreyth’s soul. That moment had felt so, so right.

This one did, too. 

~~&~~

We returned to the lab. I wondered if Peter had noticed our absence – he’d seemed pretty engrossed in his work – and as we entered, he looked up. There was a thoughtful look on his face that probably meant a grilling later.

This thing with Stephen… it was still new, but I didn’t want to hide it away. Didn’t want to pretend to anyone that we weren’t together. In fact, first opportunity I got, I was going to tell Peter. 

But right in the middle of finding out what progress he’d made was not that opportunity. F.R.I.D.A.Y had walked him through using the 3D printer, and he was assembling the last pieces of a blocky device the size of a pick-up truck. Wires stuck out from open access panels. He’d rigged a screen on one side. The device looked big enough to take the largest of the dragon bones.

“Not exactly elegant,” I said. “But solid work. What’re you calling it?”

“I have to name it now?” His face was tight, the flushed skin stretched across his cheekbones. I cursed my inattention – I hadn’t noticed how much this project was stretching him. He’d done an incredible job with unfamiliar equipment in a short period of time.

“Never mind.” I put my hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Relax, OK? Go grab another soda. Work out those muscles. We’ll test this later.”

“Sure.” His smile was strained. “Can I get extra credit for this at school?” he asked with a lopsided smile. 

“Hell yes.” Was I pushing him too hard? “Go on, take a rest.”

“I think that goes for all of us,” Stephen said, making me jump a little. He’d moved quietly enough that I hadn’t heard his approach. “We haven’t had a proper break for hours, or a proper meal.”

That made me brighten. “You’re cooking?”

“I can rustle something up.”

I risked a look at Peter as we trooped out of the lab. He was smiling.

~~&~~

“So,” Peter said half an hour later as we were laying the table. Stephen was putting the final touches to enchiladas and my _God,_ it smelled divine. “You and Stephen. Glad it’s finally happened, man.”

“Way to steal my thunder,” I grumbled. “Was gonna tell ya. It’s just, this is all new. Like, _really_ new.” At his raised eyebrow, I added, “I kissed him the night I killed Usreyth. In fact pretty much immediately after I absorbed his soul.”

“Dude!” His eyes opened wide. “Did you do it because… I mean, was it because…?”

“Because the magic made me do it?” My mouth twisted in a sneer, there and gone before I could control it. “No. That was Stephen’s concern. Look, it was something I’d wanted to do for a long time, OK? I just hadn’t really ever…” I sighed. “Wasn’t brave enough to tell him how I felt, I guess. That’s the problem with superheroes – we’re great on the punching, top notch, but we can’t tell people how we feel for shit.”

Peter leaned back in his seat. “Pretty sure that’s not just a superhero thing.”

I was done talking about myself. “How’s it going with MJ?”

“Good,” he replied immediately, his expression brightening before anxiety clouded his eyes. “I mean at least I _think_ it’s going good, she’s really cool, and she’d tell me if she wasn’t happy, right?”

“You’re asking _me_ for relationship advice?”

“I wouldn’t,” Stephen said, putting loaded plates on the table. I wondered whether he’d heard our conversation. From the warm look in his eyes, I guessed he had. I relaxed a little – I’d wondered if he might want to keep us a secret, at least in the short term, but he didn’t seem to mind Peter knowing. “He’s _terrible_ at relationships, I mean absolutely awful. Just look who he picked this time.” He jabbed one scarred thumb at his chest.

“From where I’m standing, seems like a good choice.” Peter’s grin and good humour were infectious. God, I loved this kid. 

~~&~~

By unspoken, mutual consensus, there was zero shop talk. Instead we peppered Peter with questions about his girlfriend. He took them with easy grace, deflecting when it got too personal with an ease that surprised me. He was growing into a solid, dependable – brilliant – young man. 

It was stretching into early evening by the time we got back to the lab, but the meal and conversation seemed to have refreshed us all. Now I had the designs for our time-hop project, and the final sign-off from Stephen, the actual manufacture and assembly of the design would only take a couple of hours. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, get DUM-E to clear me out some lab space, OK?” I asked as I started dialling equipment out of storage. “I need twenty, maybe thirty feet square. Floor to ceiling safety barrier.”

The main component of these turquoise feathers was glass. I could have made them the traditional way – and had, in fact, worked with glass years ago – but time was short, and this was no arts and crafts project. The measurements had to be exact. For that, I needed an industrial set-up. 

“Better make it forty,” Stephen said. “Don’t forget we increased the height of the feathers.”

“Oh, yeah, right.”

Fears for the future – and the extreme past – aside, I was actually pretty stoked to see our design. The Eye of Agamotto was the central focus, mounted in the middle of a brass-coated titanium frame. To harness and re-focus the light of the Eye, we’d designed eight ‘feathers’ – tall sheets of turquoise glass sculpted in such a way that light would bounce from one to the other before being directed back to the Eye. The feathers were mounted on brass-coated titanium poles. I’d wanted the titanium for strength and lightness; Stephen had added the brass – which totally fucked up the whole point of using light-weight metal – because apparently it was an excellent magical conductor.

While DUM-E (at F.R.I.D.A.Y’s direction) was clearing lab space, I checked in again with Peter.

“How ‘bout we look over that device you’re building?” I asked.

“Would you?” he blurted, the relief on his face obvious. “It’s gonna work fine, I mean I _think_ it’s gonna work fine, but it’s not like it’s been tested, hell, I’m not sure _I’ve_ even been tested for this –”

“Relax.” I gripped his shoulder. “If it doesn’t work first time, no problem. Things don’t always work first time. Or the second, or third, or forth, or… eh.” I shrugged. “Rule one of Inventor’s Club – you can spend days on a design, weeks, months, sometimes years. And it still doesn’t work. Learned that the hard way.”

Instead of relieving his anxiety, it seemed to make it worse. I squeezed his shoulder a little tighter.

~~&~~

Stephen wandered over while we were ankle-deep in components. The device hadn’t worked on the first try. It had taken me a few minutes to see why, but I kept my mouth shut – I could see Peter was more than half-way to figuring it out himself. 

“I think the glass feathers are finished,” Stephen said. “That little button on the side of the machine? It just turned green.” He was trying to hide it, but I was pretty sure he was impressed. “How’s it going here?”

“Kill me now,” Peter moaned, reaching for another circuit board. 

“It’s going great,” I said. “We’re almost done.”

“Are you fucking _kidding_ me?” Peter wailed. “Where the hell does this piece even go – oh… what if I try…”

I held back a smile as I watched his face. Yeah. He’d got it.

“Like I said. Almost done.”

“How long do you think it’ll take to get a working suit?” Stephen waved a vague hand at the device.

“Baby steps,” I advised. “We basically have to vaporise the bones before we can bond them to the nanites. Then we can test the cohesion field.” A thought struck me. “I wonder if this will stop whatever asshole trick Montgomery pulled on me before?”

Stephen shrugged. “Impossible to tell. They’re magical items, there’s no knowing yet how they could react in the presence of technology.”

“Uh… isn’t that basically what we’re doing with the Eye?”

“Not at all. I understand how the Eye of Agamotto works, I understand how it will behave within the rig we’re building. The bones, however, are an unknown quantity.” He nudged me with his shoulder. “By the time you get your suit made, you’ll know more about them than I do.”

“The material side of things, sure. I mean I know the tensile strength, the elemental components, the conductivity…” 

Thinking about conductivity, the way energy flowed through materials, sparked an idea in the front of my brain. “It’s all energy, right? What you do, what _I_ do, it’s all just energy. The only thing that changes is how we use it.” I laughed, giddy, probably more tired than I was prepared to admit. This was something so breath-taking and simple I was amazed I’d never considered it before. “Christ, _everything’s_ magic when you look at it the right way!”

The understanding felt… huge. Enormous. Yet at the same time it was also small, infinitesimal, as if it was something I should always have known. 

“It took me a long time to realise that,” Stephen said. “The flow of energy is a fundamental principle at the heart of both magic and technology. And from an observational point of view, the two things are indistinguishable – both practices direct energy through devices to affect an outcome.”

I stared at him, astounded. Speechless. Even though I was standing squarely on the ground, my world had just been rocked. My jaw worked as I scratched around for something, _anything,_ to say.

I’d never felt closer to Stephen than I had in that moment, and I think he felt that. His eyes had warmed, and his lips were tilted in a faint smile. I felt that, even if I couldn’t form the right words to talk about this right now, I _could_ talk to him. I could talk to him about anything. Everything. He might not understand all the things running through my head; hell, I wasn’t sure _I_ understood all the things running through my head. But he would listen. 

I hadn’t started falling for him. I’d already fallen.


	25. 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Tony is working metal in the forge area of his lab, he and Stephen let their desire take over – but Tony has to deal with Stephen’s lingering uncertainty over the depth of their relationship.

The next part of our project involved the forge. It was loud, messy, and kept peppering my soot-smeared jeans with burn marks. I didn’t get to do traditional blacksmith work often, not like this, but I always enjoyed it when I did. It was a good way of reminding myself that you didn’t always need high tech to make useful things.

Plus, it turned out Stephen had a thing for watching me work. I couldn’t imagine why. I mean, surely it didn’t have anything to do with the fact that I’d switched out my T-shirt for a tank, now sweat-soaked and streaked with dirt. Couldn’t have a _thing_ to do with the fact that I was swinging a hammer on a sheet of brass, the muscles in my arm straining with each blow. And yeah, so I might have stretched the work out a little. Might have taken my time, despite the persistent ache in my leg. 

I turned the blowtorch off when Stephen finally un-stretched from his standing position on the wall. Though he wasn’t the one doing the work, it was still hot in here, and there were damp patches of sweat marking his dark green tunic. And, yeah, I might have been enjoying the view. I flipped up the visor and wiped my arm across my dripping forehead.

“You nearly finished here?” he asked. His eyes were trained on my face. There was an intensity to his gaze that went straight to my dick. 

“Getting there.”

“You should probably take a break.”

“Keep looking at me like that, I should probably take a cold shower.” I put the blowtorch down and took the visor off, dumping them both on the worktable. The rig was coming together quickly now as I welded each component into place. Fixing the glass feathers into place would be a longer, more delicate process. 

“Don’t feel you have to shower on my account.” He was pacing closer, now only a few steps away. I held still. I felt as if I was being stalked… and I liked it. I was usually the one doing the stalking. “You don’t mind me standing here, all hot and sweaty…?”

His answer was a wordless growl that made my pulse jump. He curled both hands around my biceps, his long, thin fingers digging into my flesh. His eyes were burning. He tried to pull me in; from sheer contrariness I resisted, digging my toes against the concrete floor, before I let our bodies thump together. His erection pushed against my belly. Exciting. Interesting. 

“Why do you have to make everything difficult?” he demanded, before roughly pressing his mouth against mine.

I bit his lower lip and pulled my head back. His eyes burned. I grabbed the front of his tunic in both hands and tugged, dragging him back for a kiss that made my brain spin. 

“Because you drive me fucking crazy,” I moaned.

He dragged his palms down my sweaty arms. His fingertips moved beneath my tank, the heel of his hands brushing my ribs; I yanked my mouth away from his, drawing down a fast, ragged breath, before flicking my tongue along the line of his beard. 

“Fuck.” The sensation of his fingers on my bare skin was incredible. He pushed me back. I stumbled. He steadied me until I hit the wall. My startled exclamation was lost beneath his hard, possessive kiss, beneath the drive of his tongue against mine. I gasped as he raised his head, chasing his mouth, until his shaking hand on my jaw made me open my eyes.

The hesitation on his face was unexpected, and partially doused the desire that was burning me alive. But when I felt his trembling fingers on the button of my jeans, I understood, and the flames roared up to take me again. 

To answer his unspoken question, I pressed a gentle kiss against his lips. Eased my tongue over his. Sucked it, just a little, feeling his startled moan vibrate against my mouth.

He took his time unfastening my jeans. He could control the tremble in his fingers when he needed to, so I decided he was deliberately taking his time, either to tease me or himself. Either way, the gentle brush of his knuckles over my hard-on was a slow, maddening torture, so I returned the favour by deepening the kiss. Slowing it down. It was hot and dirty and enough to make his fingers tighten on my jaw. 

Finally my jeans were open. He pulled the zip down. I looped my arms around his neck, hands loosely laced together. His palm slid lower. Over my boxer briefs. Curving over the shape of my cock. 

“God.” I wrenched my mouth away from his. Our eyes met. We were both panting, breath mingling, the bitter smell of coffee tinged with sweet candy.

“Is this OK?” Even now – with my dick pretty much in his hand – he was uncertain, and my heart ached for him.

“More than.” I arched my hips, grinding against his touch, letting him know I was ready for more. That I _wanted_ more. What I actually wanted was everything, but what I would take was what he was prepared to give.

His fingers inched inside my Calvin Kleins. The first touch of his rough, scarred skin against my bare cock was enough to make me twitch, and when he curled his hand around my length my hips jerked forward again. I un-looped an arm long enough to shove my underpants down a couple inches, then held onto him again, not entirely trusting my shaking legs.

Without taking his eyes off mine, he set up a slow, maddening rhythm on my cock, alternating every couple of strokes with flicking his thumb over the head. Without any kind of lube it was just the right side of painful. I was so fucking turned on I knew I was going to come way too soon. Which I guess was good, because any second now it was going to become the _wrong_ side of painful –

“Stephen,” I gasped. He leaned in and kissed me, sucking down each stuttering breath, his hand moving from my jaw to the back of my neck. “Oh God, _St-Stephen –_ ”

My hands clamped on his shoulders, fingers digging deep, bucking helplessly against his hand. The first shot of come slicked his grip but he didn’t change his pace for a second. I groaned against his mouth. Helpless, yet protected, riding out my orgasm.

The mind-wrenching pleasure began to fade away. Stephen’s kiss slowed, the now-familiar uncertainty creeping back. I would do anything to take that uncertainty away. In fact…

I pulled back enough to drag the sweat-soaked tank top over my head. His eyes flicked to my bare chest, and _Christ,_ the look on his face was enough to make my dick twitch again. I grabbed his wrist, using the tank to wipe my come off his hand, then kissed his shaky smile. 

I sank slowly to my knees. Holding his gaze every inch of the way. Gauging his reaction. From his sharp intake of breath, the way the fingers of his other hand brushed briefly through my hair, I knew this was the right path to take. My leg twinged, just a little, but it was easy to ignore when Stephen was looking at me with _that_ look in his eyes.

I unfastened the buttons on his pants, cursing in my head at the unfamiliar arrangement. Kamar-Taj fashion, Jesus. I slid my palms inside his tunic, felt the heated skin and slight swell of his belly. He shuddered. His erection was just inches away. I buried my face against the cloth of his underpants – boxer briefs like mine, no Kamar-Taj fashion now – feeling the way his shudder increased. I was amazed, and a little humbled, that I could produce this reaction in him. 

Now it was _my_ turn to hesitate. I hadn’t been with a guy like this for a long time. I knew what _I_ liked when it came to getting my dick sucked, but that didn’t mean he liked the same thing –

The soft spread of his fingers through my hair stilled the sudden tumult in my mind. It was just a gentle touch, a simple caress, but it felt so much more special because it came from him. My fears ebbed away. 

I reached for his cock. My own fingers trembled, but the moment I touched him, the tremble stopped. He felt incredible in my hand; his skin soft and heated, silky, covering a hard core. Rather than take him straight into my mouth, I nuzzled against the base of his length, dragging my lips over that silky-soft skin. A strangled sound escaped his throat. I marvelled again that I had that power. This was another kind of magic – energy transferring from me, through the slick glide of my tongue, directly into him. And back to me again through his fingers in my hair, nails lightly grazing my scalp. God. I’d had no idea my scalp could be an erogenous zone.

“Please,” he groaned, the sound soft and low. “Please, Tony.”

The raw need in his voice made me feel incredible, as if I was the centre of his universe. I knew in that moment I was addicted to the sound. That I would do anything – absolutely fucking anything – to keep hearing it. 

Finally I opened my mouth and slid my lips along his length. I didn’t take much – just a couple inches – but it was enough to make his hips twitch, to make him let out a startled hiss. His fingers tightened in my hair. 

I took my time blowing him. It was partly payback for the slow way he’d jerked me, but I was also just enjoying myself; getting to know the taste of him, the feel of him in my mouth, the way he stretched my jaws. I ignored the ache, too caught up in getting to know the sound of his pleasured moan.

“God, oh _God._ ” His hips moved in short, hard jerks. I moved with him so he didn’t choke me. He’d braced his hands against the wall, elbows locked, and he held himself there while I curled my fingers around his hips. “Right there, _right fucking there –_ ”

He came with a quiet, barely-controlled moan, shooting against my tongue. My first instinct was to recoil as the thick, salty liquid splashed the roof of my mouth, but instead I swallowed it down. And the next splash. And the next. More important was the way he trembled, the way his violent shivers vibrated through my palms. The way his harsh panting breaths echoed in my ears. 

I wanted his rough breaths. I wanted his afterglow. I wanted his _everything._

Giving his still half-hard dick one last swipe with my tongue, I tucked him back into his boxer briefs and rearranged his clothes. Getting up off my knees was a trickier task; my calves had gone numb, and as I moved the blood roared back, making my feet prickle. Stephen’s hands closed on my shoulders, helping me balance. My injured leg throbbed. I ignored it as best I could.

“That was incredible,” I said, sliding my arms around his waist.

“It was.” His eyes were pools of molten metal. His hands cupped my face, thumbs stroking over my cheeks, before he leaned in and kissed me. It was soft and tender. Unexpectedly, it brought a lump to my throat.

“I, uh, I need to go take a shower,” I murmured. 

“Oh, I don’t know.” His voice wrapped around my soul. “You being sweaty is kind of how we got here in the first place.”

~~&~~

I finished up the last of the welding – _sans_ tank top, mindful of the fact I was about to pick up another couple of minor burns – and took a shower, while Stephen opened a portal back to Kamar-Taj for his own shower and a change of clothes. 

My mind was a blissful blank, but thoughts started to splash over me just like the hot water. I think we both needed this brief time apart – though watching him go through that portal had been difficult – to ground ourselves, each in our own way. What we had was still so new… but we seemed to be rushing ahead at full speed. I’d been the cause of too many train-wreck relationships to move forward so quickly now.

“You’ve got that look on your face, boss.”

I rolled my eyes and reached for the shower gel. “So long as you’re only looking at my face, you pervert.”

F.R.I.D.A.Y’s chuckle was rich and infectious. “Being with Stephen suits you.”

“You don’t think we’re… I don’t know… moving too fast?” The absurdity of the question wasn’t lost on me. She was an AI. She’d never had that kind of relationship. Also, with the exception of Pepper, all of my past relationships (if you could even call them that) had been over and done in weeks, days, and sometimes hours. 

“I believe your relationship started a lot earlier than you think it did,” she answered.

“Huh.” I thought back, trying to study our past interactions through different eyes. The spiky friendship, the back-and-forth banter… had that just been a prelude to what we had now?

I didn’t have the time or leisure to think about that right now, so I tucked it into the back of my mind to study later. Finishing in the shower, I towelled dry, grabbed fresh clothes, and headed back to the lab.

~~&~~

“It works! It actually works!”

Peter was studying streams of data on a screen, a thick trail of cables leading to the big, boxy device he’d built. He’d tidied away some of the lose wires, neatened up the interface, even spray-painted something that looked like a gang tag on the side. I peered over his shoulder. Huh, not a tag – it was a Spider-Man mask. Cheeky.

“Always knew it would, Boy Genius.” I resisted the urge to ruffle his hair; it was patronising as fuck, but hell, I still wanted to do it. I figured he would be in his forties and he’d still bring out the fatherly side of me. “How long before we can start testing?”

“Uh, soon?” He gestured toward the machine. “It’s manufacturing the first batch of bone nanites right now. I need to spend a little time on the programming, run some tests. Can you, uh…” He swallowed. “Help with that?”

“Of course.” I pulled him into a hug, a wave of pride rising up and swamping me. His slender body tensed against mine, then relaxed. 

“Wasn’t joking,” I murmured in his ear. “You _are_ a genius.”

When I pulled back he was red as a beet. But he was smiling.

~~&~~

Stephen’s return drew my attention away. The tunic and pants were still green, but a shade or two lighter than what he’d worn earlier; _I_ noticed they were different, but I doubted Peter would. 

He didn’t say anything until Peter was out of sight and sound. We’d retreated to the section off area of the lab where DUM-E was already assembling the brass-coated titanium rig.

“OK?” I asked, not liking the wary look on his face. As if he wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he’d get to being here. If he didn’t know _that,_ then we had a problem.

“Sure.” It was said too casually, as if I hadn’t had his dick in my mouth less than an hour ago. The tension on his frame was impossible to miss.

I realised I was asking the wrong question.

“Are _we_ OK?” I asked, knowing I was echoing the question he’d asked me earlier.

But instead of relieving his tension, it only seemed to make it worse. Oh, shit. We _did_ have a problem. I just didn’t have a fucking clue what it was.

“Talk to me?” I asked, crossing the space between us.

“Nothing to talk about.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “We’re OK. Why wouldn’t we be?” He hesitated, and I knew that whatever was on his mind, it was heavy. “I mean, you got what you wanted.”

The realisation made me feel physically sick. I swallowed. Swallowed again.

“You think this is just about sex?” I tried to keep my voice level, to hide the hurt his words were causing, but it was so hard. There was no doubt I found him attractive – increasingly so, the closer we became – but this had never just been about physical attraction. What really got my attention, what _held_ it, was the way he seemed to understand me.

Except right now. When he didn’t seem to understand me at all.

His only reply was a half-shrug.

Pain ripped through my chest. There was nothing physical about it, but it still hurt like hell. I hovered between anger and despondency; it would be so easy to start yelling at him, to get up in his face and make him see he was being an idiot. It would also be easy to flip down on the other side; to brush his reaction off, ignore it, then lock myself away… if not physically, then definitely emotionally. 

I stared at him. One long second passing into another. And another. And another. I vacillated between both responses. Either would destroy whatever fragile thing we had between us.

“What I want,” I said quietly, letting go of the anger, letting go of the despondency, trying to see this as an opportunity to explain how I felt, “is you.” His eyes finally rose to meet mine, his surprise evident. “What we did was... good. Insanely good. But if it had never happened, I’d still want you. You’re not just my best friend, you’re…” I shook my head, silently cursing my inability to articulate myself. 

“What am I?” he asked. His voice throbbed. His eyes burned as they drilled into me. “What am I to you?”

“Everything,” I said simply. 

“I…” His mouth worked. “I don’t believe you.”

“You’re the only person who doesn’t treat me with kid gloves,” I rushed to say, desperate to make him understand something I was still struggling to verbalise. “The only person who doesn’t tolerate my shitty attitude because ‘Hey, it’s Tony, he’s a douche and that’s just how he is.’” Words poured out of me. I prayed they would be enough. “You cook me breakfast and critique my clothes. You’ve seen me sleep. Seen the mess I’m in when I wake up. You know about my nightmares… I haven’t told anyone about those, Stephen, only you.” No one who was still alive, anyway. I swallowed. “I… this is crazy, but I miss you when we’re not together.”

I was hovering on the edge of a deeper emotion. I knew what it was. I just wasn’t ready to give it a name right now, especially not when our relationship hung in the balance. I guess I was scared to even give mental shape to that feeling. 

His eyes flickered over my face. His expression was as flat as I’d ever seen. Whatever he was thinking, whatever he was feeling, he was keeping it locked down tight. 

“You think this is just about sex, then fine,” I said quietly. I’d put myself on the line… and it hadn’t been enough. “Let me prove that it’s so much more. I won’t touch you, we’ll put it all on the back shelf.” The idea of not being able to kiss him – after the boiling-hot way we’d kissed each other before – seemed impossible, but I kept it all in check. “It’ll just be Pinky and the Brain, doing what we do every night. Trying to save the world.”

“I believe you would do that,” he said eventually. Never mind yelling; his silence had stretched on long enough to make me want to scream. “But… that’s not what I want.”

“Then what _do_ you want?” I couldn’t stop the bewildered little cry escaping my lips, and I immediately regretted it. 

A soft glow made his eyes shine. “To be sure I’m not just a passing fancy. An experiment, some shiny bauble that’s caught your attention.” He let out a slow, controlled breath. “That I won’t _lose_ your attention.”

“You’re worried that _I…_?” I let out a short, hard laugh. “Mister, you’ve got it the wrong way around. You’re the goddamned Sorcerer Supreme. You’ve been places, seen things, that are so far beyond my own realm of experience I probably don’t even have words for them. I’m just some guy who tinkers with things.”

His short, muttered oath took me by surprise, as did the way he closed the small distance between us. He grabbed my arms. I was coming to love the way he took hold of me like that, his urgency, as if he couldn’t control whatever emotion it was that drove him. That he could only communicate that emotion by touch.

“You idiot,” he rumbled. “And I guess I’m an idiot, too. I know you better than to think you’re just trying to get into my pants.”

“I know I have a reputation. But I’m trying to get into your head, too.” I tapped his forehead. He caught my wrist, sliding his thumb over the sensitive skin. My pulse jumped. 

“Your reputation’s out of date. I’m…” He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t ever apologise for telling me how you feel,” I insisted. “I want to hear it all. I mean I guess even regular couples suck sometimes at communication. I don’t wanna sound big-headed, but we’re not exactly a regular couple. Iron Man and the Sorcerer Supreme. High tech versus high magic.”

“Energy,” he murmured. “It’s all just energy. Yours, mine.” His eyes glittered, pupils dilating in the way I’d come to associate with his desire. “In constant movement.”

The soft brush of his lips over mine was enough to bring a lump to my throat. 

“Constant movement,” I agreed. With great reluctance I eased away from him. He opened his hands and let me step back. I cleared my throat. “We, uh. I mean…”

“The project,” he said.

“Yeah. That.”

His nod was slow and solemn. But his eyes were warm.

~~&~~

We worked together to get the rig finished. By mutual unspoken agreement, we kept things professional, neither touching the other, keeping conversation focussed on work and nothing more. With his magic and my mechanical assistance, we got the assembly finished in less than an hour.

When it was done, I stood back and just _appreciated_ it. Brass-coated titanium frame. Turquoise-coloured glass feathers mounted around the base. A podium in the centre to house the Eye. 

“That’s real pretty,” Peter said, wandering over. From the lines around his eyes, the tired way his head drooped, he was taking a break. He didn’t know it yet but I was going to make him go home and take a proper rest. It was the wrong side of midnight. “Like something out of a video game.”

“Sure, OK,” I said, holding back a smile. “That’s totally the aesthetic I was going for, ‘video game pretty’.”

“You can be an asshole sometimes, Tony.”

“Well gosh,” I said, giving him a sideways look. “Don’t hold back. Tell me how you really feel.” I didn’t even need to look at Stephen to know he’d be smirking. I guess I wasn’t the only asshole. 

“I suggest,” Stephen said, “that we call it a day, take some time, and come back to this in the morning. We risk another dragon attack if we delay. But we all need rest.” He looked at me, but his eyes lingered on Peter. Yeah. He knew I’d been working him too hard. I felt a little guilty for that. 

“I can keep going,” Peter was quick to say.

“We could all keep going.” His attention stayed on Peter, and I sensed he was about to tell him something important. “But if you push yourself too hard – if you run too long – you make mistakes.”

Oh. This wasn’t just a lesson for Peter. This was a reminder for me.

“And when we mistakes,” I said quietly, “people die.”

Yeah. Sometimes – often – I needed to be reminded of that.

~~&~~

Stephen opened a portal and sent Peter home. The kid virtually stumbled through, and I was glad we’d called it a day; he was exhausted, had clearly been hiding it for some time, and needed rest.

“I should have sent him back earlier,” I sighed when the portal closed. “I knew he was tired, but he’s so goddamned enthusiastic when he gets the bit between his teeth.”

“Not unlike someone else I know,” Stephen replied, a warm, teasing smile on his face. God, I loved it when he smiled. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a terrible role model,” I groaned. “Go on, get lost, Kamar-Taj needs you.”

“What about you?” He pulled me close.

“Yeah.” I reached up to kiss him. This honesty – it was damned scary, but so goddamned rewarding. “ _I_ need you, too.”


	26. 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Tony struggles out of a nightmare, F.R.I.D.A.Y invokes the Strange Protocol – Stephen arrives to comfort him. While Peter codes and tests the bone nanites, Stephen and Tony use the rig to go back in time and travel to ancient Nirn.

I clawed my way out of another nightmare, the scream muffled in the pillow. I buried my sweating face against the damp fabric and sobbed. Tears, sweat, by this point I didn’t have a fucking clue.

“Boss?” F.R.I.D.A.Y’s soft voice brushed across my awareness. “I’ve called Stephen.”

“Don’t you dare,” I croaked. Just hearing his name made me want to burrow against his chest and stay there forever.

“You’re a little too late,” Stephen said.

I chanced raising my face. The fiery glow of a portal made me squint as he stepped through; as it faded, the room returned to darkness.

“I don’t need you,” I growled, pulling the blanket up and over my head, hiding me from view. I knew my words were hurtful – recalled with perfect clarity what I’d said before he left last night – but I couldn’t help myself; I _did_ need him, needed him so much something hurt inside. He’d already seen me at my worst. But I couldn’t let him see me like _this._ I was a wreck.

“Newsflash,” Stephen murmured. I heard the rustle of cloth, muted beneath the blanket. “We don’t always know what we need.”

The blanket was tugged out of my hands. Before I could protest, a long body dipped the mattress beside me. Firm arms pulled me against a cool body. Stephen’s scent filled my nose, wild and calming at the same time. 

“No!” I tried to push him away. “God, what are you _doing –_ ” The sheets were damp with sweat, the pillow soaking up my stupid tears. Why the fuck would he get into bed with _that?_

“You’re not the only one who has nightmares.”

His words struck like a blow. I stopped trying to push him away. He’d already told me he had his own nightmares; like the asshole I was, I’d somehow thought mine must be worse. He’d seen horrors I had no frame of reference for, and I _still_ thought my nightmares would be worse.

“Sorry,” I croaked. “I’m a selfish prick, I’m sorry –”

Cool lips brushed across my forehead. “I know. Go back to sleep.”

I was halfway to thinking it could never happen – the ghost of bad dreams bouncing around my head, stretched out next to a guy who made my blood boil in so many different ways – when sleep dragged me down again.

~~&~~

I woke with one arm under the pillow and the other slung over Stephen’s hip, fingers curving around the bony joint. He’d stripped down to his boxer briefs, rumpled black pyjamas dumped with uncharacteristic abandon on the far side of the room. 

One of his long legs was sandwiched in between mine. Both arms were under the pillow. His face, turned toward me, was smooshed against the fabric. Not a pretty sight. But to my eyes he was the most goddamned beautiful person I’d ever seen. 

I didn’t want to think about how I’d reacted last night, but I was seldom able to control the flow of thoughts through my head. I remembered I’d called myself a selfish prick. That didn’t do myself justice – I was a selfish, arrogant, _thoughtless_ prick. F.R.I.D.A.Y had called him and he’d come. Every time she called, he came. If he could. The couple times he hadn’t, he’d been fighting otherworldly monstrosities that would have been enough to give me nightmares. Knowing he suffered his _own_ nightmares – understanding that, in a way I hadn’t before – was humbling. We were alike in so many ways. Reflections of each other, maybe.

His eyes opened. They were a little gummy, a little bloodshot. Did I look like that? He turned his head, wincing as his neck straightened, but he made no move to untangle our legs. Instead he pulled me closer.

I had a moment of doubt – a moment of fear where I almost fought him – but it vanished as his sleepy lips found the side of my neck. There was nothing sexual about his kiss. It was just a slow, damp way to say ‘good morning’ from a guy who was still more asleep than awake.

“Hi,” I said, tightening my arm around his hip. His body was sleep-warm.

He smiled. “Hi. Sorry I crashed your pity-party last night.”

I chuckled. “Come crash it any time you like. Just, you know, give me time to change the sheets or something first, maybe take a shower –”

He stilled my rambling mouth with a kiss. It was soft, gentle, almost exploratory, and I let him in without hesitation.

He pulled back with obvious reluctance. “I wish I could wake up like this every day.”

“You can.”

His smile was lop-sided, eyes flickering with unspoken emotions. “Easy to say that when we’re in bed. Will you still be saying that after we come back from some stupid society ball? Or when a beautiful woman flutters her lashes at you?”

I understood him well enough now to realise that by bringing up my reputation, he wasn’t trying to lash out. This was a reflection of his insecurities. Maybe by quelling his, I could silence my own.

“I’ll always be saying that,” I replied, hoping he would hear my sincerity. “Because it’s always going to be true. You just… you _get_ me, Stephen, all these little fucked up parts of me. And you still want to wake up next to me. And my morning breath.”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and kissed me again. Clearly morning breath didn’t matter to him and right now, it sure as hell didn’t matter to me. 

His kiss this time was deeper. More thorough. His teeth nipped my lip, sucking my tongue into his mouth. I knew that if I didn’t stop this now it would turn into something I couldn’t – wouldn’t – stop. 

“We have to go save the world,” I whispered.

“Alright, Pinky.” He pulled back with reluctance, then, smirking, kissed the tip of my nose.

“Oh, no you don’t.” I rolled us over so he was on his back and I was on top of him, his body heat seeping into every part of me, the obvious shape of his erection pressing against me – and, I guessed, mine pressing against him. The soft friction of fabric against my sensitive dick was delicious. “ _You’re_ Pinky.”

He gazed up at me with luminous grey eyes. How had I never noticed how thick and dark his lashes were? 

“Right now,” he said, swallowing again, “I’m about a hair’s breadth away from kissing you again. And I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop this time.”

I pressed a single slow, closed-mouth kiss to his lips, deliberately testing his self-control – and mine. When I pulled back, we were both breathing hard. His pupils were huge and dark. 

“Douchebag,” he croaked.

“Always,” I said, gently touching the side of his face. “I’m going to take a shower. A very, very _cold_ shower.”

“Room for two?” The hopeful note in his voice was almost enough to undo my resolve.

“Kind of defeats the point of a cold shower…”

~~&~~

When I came out of the bathroom, the room was empty, but the still-open portal in the bedroom told me Stephen would be back soon. There were plenty of showers here in the Compound but his clothes were back in Kamar-Taj. As I was dressing, he stepped back through the portal, closing it behind him, hair still damp from his own ablutions. He was fully geared up, the Cloak of Levitation billowing behind him. 

“Way to make an entrance,” I said.

He rolled his eyes. “I can’t just walk into a room, you know that.”

I snickered. “Let me check in with Peter, then we’ll eat. _Then_ we can go save the world.”

“And here was me thinking we’d save the world _before_ breakfast.” 

~~&~~

Peter had school. When I called him, he seemed to think it was OK to skip it; I set him straight about that and threatened to tell May if he cut class. He countered and said the dragons wouldn’t wait for him to finish school before they attacked. Annoyingly, he was right: - he still had plenty of coding and testing to get the bone nanites ready. I needed a suit that would give me an edge during the next dragon fight, and we were on the clock. So I gave him my blessing to skip school on the understanding that he’d pick up all the homework. When we finished the call, I asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to hack into his teachers’ lesson plans and email him the homework… and send a copy to May, too.

Stephen whipped up a quick yet nourishing breakfast of porridge. I didn’t even know we had porridge. But I ate it without complaint, knowing I might need the energy. The Cloak mimicked his every move, hovering beside him in front of the stove. It was a surreal experience, like something out of _Fantasia._ On the plus side – porridge.

Then there was nothing else left to do. It was time to go.

~~&~~

We entered the space marked out by the rig. I ran a few final calibrations while Stephen stood by the mount in the middle. When I was done, I came to stand beside him.

He reached inside his tunic and brought out the Eye of Agamotto, lifting the chain over his head. He settled the Eye in the mount.

I had a moment’s hesitation. “How certain are we this is gonna work?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “As certain as the Sorcerer Supreme and Iron Man can be.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” But that didn’t stop a thread of disquiet coiling in my gut. If something went wrong, we could end up stranded. Not just on another world – but in another time.

I tapped the ARC reactor and suited up.

“This is going to work.” His eyes bored into mine before the visor slid into place. Was that just a little uncertainty…?

No. This _was_ going to work. I believed that.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, initiate… shit, I haven’t even named this thing yet. I can’t keep calling it a rig.”

Stephen sighed. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, just initiate start-up.”

“With pleasure.” Her warm voice made me snort. I was pretty sure she had a soft spot for my guy. Hell, _I_ had a soft spot for my guy.

A soft hum reached my ears. I felt the hairs on the back of my arm stand up in response. 

“Engaging,” F.R.I.D.A.Y announced.

The Eye glowed. Stephen stepped forward and placed his hands on the device, fingers splayed and, I thought, placed in exacting positions.

A piercing beam of green light emerged from the jewel, hitting the turquoise feather immediately opposite. The structure glowed with arcane energy. The beam bounced from feather to feather, creating a circle of energy around us. I felt it, vibrating behind my breastbone, making my skin tingle. Anxiety tightened my hands into fists. If this went wrong – 

A surge of power made the air whine. Turquoise-green energy crackled between the feathers, shooting out from the jewel. I moved closer to Stephen, though whether it was an innate need to protect him – or myself – I had no idea.

The air around us darkened, back-lit by the green glow. Stephen’s teeth were gritted, his jaw clenched; his hands trembled, the scars on his fingers standing out unnaturally bright against the encroaching darkness. The walls of the lab began to fade. The floor, the ceiling, all obscured. 

We were surrounded by darkness. Even the rig had disappeared, leaving the Eye floating in the void. The equipment had done its job – the power of the Eye had been boosted, focussed back.

I hoped it had enough juice to get us home.

Streaks of green-tinged light moved sideways through the void. My stomach churned. Rather than risk puking in the suit, I fixed my eyes on Stephen’s face.

The strain was beginning to show. His eyes flickered, lips drawing back from his teeth. I didn’t dare speak. Didn’t dare distract him. So I waited, counting the seconds. Tense. Nauseous. Waiting for…. God, I didn’t even know what.

With a grunt of effort, Stephen yanked his hands away from the Eye. It dropped through the inky blackness, thumping on a soft surface that definitely was not the floor of my laboratory. He scooped to pick it up, fastened it back on the chain, and tucked it under his tunic.

The darkness faded. My suit began taking readings, lines of data scrolling up the HUD. I ignored them because _hell,_ I didn’t need data to tell me that we were – quite literally – in the ass end of nowhere.

“We’re not in Kansas anymore,” I murmured. 

We were surrounded by huge, ancient trees. Their branches spread wide, clusters of thick leaves dappling sunlight on the dense, springy ground. There was leaf litter underfoot. Twigs. Beneath that, rich, loamy soil. A low-lying mist floated in patches around the base of the trees.

“We’re exactly where we started,” Stephen grunted, arming sweat off his forehead. The magical effort required to get us here must have been enormous, and we weren’t done yet. “Just… thousands of years earlier.”

“You OK?”

His eyes flicked to me. “Of course. You?”

I hadn’t just bounced us back through time. “Sure.”

“Ready to go to another world?”

It was on the tip of my tongue to say something trite – that he took me somewhere else every time he kissed me – but this was neither the time nor the place. This was business. If we fucked up here, some archaeologist would be digging our bones up. Some really, _really_ surprised archaeologist. They’d have a whale of a time trying to figure out the Iron Man suit. 

“Born ready.”

~~&~~

Stephen started trying to get a portal open. He held his arm out, hand steady as a rock, eyes closed in focus. I kept my mouth shut. Yeah, Tony, don’t distract the wizard.

Instead I kept a wary eye on our surroundings, checking the HUD every few seconds for life signs of large predators. I trusted F.R.I.D.A.Y to give me the nod if anything came near, but that wouldn’t stop me checking, too. I switched her to an in-suit channel so our chatter wouldn’t distract Stephen.

“Incoming on your six,” F.R.I.D.A.Y said. “Large carnivore, hundred and twenty feet. Stalking speed.”

I turned. Couldn’t see a thing – the undergrowth was too thick – so I moved to infrared. The predator showed clearly in my display. Larger than a lion, more solid.

“Whadya think?” I asked F.R.I.D.A.Y. “Bear? Cat? Lion-thing from hell?”

“ _Smilodon Fatalis,_ ” she replied. “Saber-toothed cat. Archaeological records suggest they weighed around six hundred pounds.”

“I’m gonna try a sonic blast,” I suggested, re-calibrating a few programs on the fly. “Giant cat repellent. Executing now.”

Nothing. No reaction. The cat prowled closer. I cycled through the frequencies, ready to give him a repulsor blast if all else failed.

A few seconds later the cat yowled, the sound a coughing, hacking roar that reminded me of a bobcat. The infrared showed him bounding away through the underbrush. 

A rippling noise made me turn back. Still watching in infrared, the portal was a blaze of white light so intense F.R.I.D.A.Y automatically switched back to regular vision to save my retinas. The magical energy of the portal was so deep an orange it was almost red, and it flickered like a wild flame. Through it, I saw a snow-covered rocky outcrop. My suit registered deep cold gusting through the rift.

“That was more difficult than I expected,” Stephen grunted. “Nirn is _quite_ a few dimensions away from Earth.”

I eyed the open portal with suspicion. “This is the right place? Alright, alright,” I back-tracked at his hard look. “And this isn’t gonna half-kill us the way it did Arngeir?”

“I told you.” His expression levelled out; rather than irritating him further, my question seemed to make him calmer. My only guess was that he realised how jittery this was making me, and he was making an effort to keep me on the level. “Arngeir’s use of magic is quite unlike my own. It took the combined efforts of many of his colleagues to send him across dimensions. I only needed myself to open this portal.”

There was no point procrastinating. With one quick nod, I walked through and into another world.


	27. 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the Throat of the World, Tony and Stephen witness an eons-old battle between ancient Nirnians and Alduin. Tony learns Dragonrend, a Shout specifically designed to weaken dragons.

The last time I’d gone to another dimension – during the first Battle of New York, when I’d directed a nuclear missile through a Chitauri portal and into the inky void of space – I’d expected to die. Like Arngeir, I’d gone into it thinking it was a one-way trip. But unlike him I’d had no time to make peace with it, to reconcile myself to imminent death; I’d tried to call Pepper, but she’d had her eyes glued to the news rather than her phone. I’d never blamed her for that. 

This second time couldn’t be more different from the first. Death was a possibility, but it wasn’t the certainty I’d expected before. And the guy that I lo – the guy I _cared about_ was with me. A powerful sorcerer, not a civilian. He was going to come back. _I_ was going to come back.

That didn’t stop my anxiety levels spiking. I knew F.R.I.D.A.Y was aware. She was monitoring my vitals, she _had_ to be aware. But she didn’t say a thing. 

“You still here, F.R.I.D.A.Y?” I asked, taking my first steps through crisp, ankle-deep snow. 

“Still here, boss.” Her voice was soft, almost reverential, as if she was trying to hide her wonder. She wasn’t programmed for awe… but she’d said and done a lot of things she wasn’t programmed for. 

We were on a wide, winding flight of stone stairs halfway up a mountain. The HUD told me there were several thousand feet between us and ground level. The sky was dark maroon, like dried blood, streaked with grey and the violent yellow of a fresh bruise. The landscape stretched away into the distance, melting into the horizon, a patchwork of snow-covered plains broken by the dark shapes of towns or cities. 

There was a pitched battle happening close to the base of the mountain. From my vantage point it looked like two opposing tides surging over each other, the black specks of ants at war. Light exploded over the field – fireballs, crimson streaks, lime-green flares, cool blue glows. Magic. It was like something out of a _Lord of the Rings_ movie.

I felt a tug behind my ribs, pulling me closer to the edge of the steps. I closed my eyes. Fought the sensation. But instead of the usual red-brown of my closed lids, I saw the now familiar white-gold of a dragon’s soul. 

“There’s a dragon down there,” I said with certainty, wrenching my eyes open.

“Alduin?”

I closed my eyes again, trying to make sense of the feeling in my chest. A ball of energy, the shimmering, golden light of a Dovah. As I focussed on my awareness, that golden ball expanded in my mind’s eye –

A _challenge._ I was furious at Alduin’s presence. I’d burn his wings right off his fucking arms, drive him to the ground, and tear out his goddamned throat.

Shocked, I reined in the explosion of emotion, trying to reconcile this new part of me with the version I already knew. I had to step up and own that shit before it got out of my control. I grabbed the ball of energy in both mental fists and shoved it down deep.

If I could sense _him… _could he sense me? No time to think about it.__

__“It’s him,” I said. “He’s down there somewhere. And at least one more up top.” I jabbed a finger skyward._ _

__“Arngeir told me Alduin’s banishment happened at the summit of the mountain. We need to go higher.”_ _

__“Meet you up there,” I said, leaping into the air as I directed power to the hand and foot repulsors. I angled up, controlling the ascent, Stephen – powered by the Cloak of Levitation – half a breath behind._ _

__“Wait!” he called._ _

__I stopped my ascent, hovering in the air, balancing on the repulsors._ _

__“We don’t want to be seen,” he said, hovering beside me. “Let me cast an invisibility ward?”_ _

__Oh, shit. I hadn’t even considered that. It was the whole ‘don’t step on an ant’ thing. If we got caught up in this, it wouldn’t just change the future of Nirn, it could change the future of Earth too._ _

__If Alduin had already sensed my presence… was _that_ the reason he’d come to Earth, rather than some other world?_ _

__I reeled away from the thought, hoping it couldn’t be true. The little I knew about time travel suggested it was fixed; you couldn’t change it, but you could make it split. Not just multiple worlds but multiple timelines._ _

__The Dovah energy inside me pulsed. It wanted to fight Alduin here and now, and fuck the consequences. But it was me – Tony Stark, the human being – who was in control, and I had a brain that could consider consequences rather than just reacting to emotions._ _

__Not always a _bright_ brain, but hey._ _

__“Do what you gotta do, man.”_ _

__A brief look of relief flitted across his face. Even after everything we’d discussed, he still thought I might freak out if he started casting shit on me. I _could…_ but not because it was magic. Magic – tech – it was all just applications of energy, and now I understood that on a fundamental level, it made it so much easier to accept. No, what would make me freak out _now_ was if he cast something on me without permission. But I knew him. I trusted him not to do that._ _

__He placed his hands together, fingertips touching, forming an arch with his palms. Despite the freezing weather and his own injuries, his hands didn’t tremble at all, a sure sign he was channelling magic through them. He closed his eyes and bowed his head._ _

__A moment later a glowing ball of blue light formed between his palms. The light expanded, fading as it moved, covering us both in a barely-visible ball of energy._ _

__My skin tingled as the energy passed through me._ _

__“Do you feel that, F.R.I.D.A.Y?” I asked, curious to see whether she could detect it._ _

__“No, boss. I don’t have sensors capable of detecting the levels of energy required for magic.”_ _

__“Take a note. We’re building them.”_ _

__“I’ve added it to the ‘to-do’ list.”_ _

__“OK?” Stephen asked. I nodded, and we continued our ascent._ _

__~~ &~~_ _

__We crested a rise at the same time. The summit of the mountain was wide and flat, an unnatural plateau made by magic or man. On the far side, a single curved wall rose up. The HUD put it at fifteen feet tall. It also enhanced the marks on the inside curve that I could barely see, marking them out in orange that reminded me of a dragon’s soul. Which was appropriate, because there was a dragon crouching on the ground in front of it._ _

___Not Alduin._ But I’d already known that. This dragon was smaller – smaller even than Usreyth – with a ruddy brown hide. The shifting crimson sky made it hard to tell. So this was the Throat of the World._ _

__My attention had been seized by the dragon, but he wasn’t alone. Three humans ranged across the plateau. One man wore leather armour; the second was older, in a dark robe, with a long, dirty-grey beard. The last was a woman in plate armour. She must have been pretty damned muscled under that gear. My first Iron Man suit – the one I’d built to help me escape the Ten Rings in Afghanistan – had been heavy as fuck without the necessary augmentation. This woman wore hers with the ease of long, bloody practise._ _

__I heard yelling. Stephen put his hands together again, palm to palm, speaking a word that was snatched away by the wind. Green light glowed between his fingers. He’d cast this spell once before, when Arngeir arrived; this time, instead of pointing to an individual target, he pulled his palms apart and raised both hands into the air, fingers splayed. Green light emanated from him in a wave, flicking across the plateau in the blink of an eye. Nobody appeared to have noticed._ _

__“Gormlaith!” a voice yelled, the guy in the leather armour. Heavily accented Scandinavian, like Arngeir’s. “We’re running out of time! The battle…”_ _

__“ _Daar sul thur se Alduin vokrii,_ ” the dragon growled. His voice vibrated in my bones. “Today Alduin’s lordship will be restored. But I honour your courage. _Krif voth ahkrin. _Die now, in vain.”___ _

____He roared, one heavily-clawed hand slashing out, and lunged for the leather-armoured man. He countered the slash with a two-handed battle-axe, making it seem light as wood in his muscled grip. The woman added a long-bladed sword with a dexterity and ease that made me whistle with awe._ _ _ _

____I felt like a fraud. These were people who’d spent years honing their martial skills, building up their muscles, turning a fight into a piece of art. Me? My muscles were fake, my strength lent to me by hydraulic systems in the suit. My weapons were missiles and repulsors. Where was the skill in any of that?_ _ _ _

____I watched the man and woman moving back and forth, each harrying the dragon, taking a swing at his flank before ducking away from his claws or vicious teeth._ _ _ _

_____You’re_ not _a fraud,_ I told myself. _The things you build, the fights you choose, are every bit as valid as these guys. Learning how to build things like the Iron Man suit doesn’t happen overnight. Learning how to stay alive, that doesn’t happen overnight, either.__ _ _ _

____The woman ducked under the dragon’s snapping jaws, rammed her sword into his shoulder, and used it to haul herself up his flank. He roared – pain, anger, maybe both – and whipped his head around, trying to smack her off. The guy with the battle-axe sliced across the side of his long neck to distract him._ _ _ _

____“Know that Gormlaith sent you to your death!” the woman shouted, reversing her blade so the point was angled down. She drove it deep into the dragon’s flesh._ _ _ _

____He screamed, the sound loud enough to hurt. F.R.I.D.A.Y compensated by dampening the audio for a few seconds. The dragon collapsed._ _ _ _

____“Christ,” I muttered. “She made it look so fucking easy.”_ _ _ _

____“Practise,” Stephen grunted. The bubble of invisibility around us must also be making it possible for us to hear each other without yelling. “She’s done this before. A _lot._ ”_ _ _ _

____Well, that was a horrifying thought. Just how many dragons had lived on Nirn?_ _ _ _

____The woman – Gormlaith – yanked her blade free and jumped clear with a single athletic leap. There was no release of soul energy, no sudden bonfire. She wasn’t Dragonborn._ _ _ _

____I wondered if two or more had ever lived on the same world at the same time. Or – as I had come to suspect – like the Highlander, there could be only one. Where was this era’s Dragonborn? Arngeir had skimped the details._ _ _ _

____“Hakon!” Gormlaith shouted, thrusting her sword into a snowbank to wipe off the blood. “A glorious day, is it not?”_ _ _ _

____Bravado? Arrogance? Medieval style shit-talking? Hell, if she killed dragons on the regular, it wasn’t arrogance._ _ _ _

____“Have you no thought beyond the blooding of your blade?” the man in leather growled, his tone sour. So he was Hakon._ _ _ _

____Gormlaith laughed. “What else is there?”_ _ _ _

____Yeah. So dragon-killing – battle – was her whole life. Probably her _short_ life, if my own experiences were anything to go by. I understood that. The need to go out there and _fight._ To stand up for those who couldn’t do it for themselves. And yeah – the glory kinda helped, too._ _ _ _

____“The battle below goes ill,” Hakon said. God, this sounded like badly-written dialogue from a video-game cut scene. “If Alduin does not rise to our challenge, I fear all may be lost.”_ _ _ _

____“You worry too much, brother.” Gormlaith armed sweat from her forehead, drawing my attention to the slash-mark tattoos across her face. “Victory will be ours.”_ _ _ _

____“Why does Alduin hang back?” Hakon demanded, turning to the guy in the robes. His voice rose with anxiety. “We’ve staked everything on this plan of yours, old man.”_ _ _ _

____“He will come,” the robed man said. His voice matched his crazy hair and beard – older, wise enough not to give a shit, and experienced. “He cannot ignore our defiance. And why should he fear us, even now?”_ _ _ _

____Defiance? What did he mean by that? The battle down below? Without more context, all I could do was speculate._ _ _ _

____“We’ve bloodied him well,” Gormlaith commented. Her voice swelled with excitement, though to my ears there was something else there… yeah. Deep, manic cheer hiding exhaustion. I recognised that tone, recognised that behaviour, because I’d spent so much of the last decade living it myself. “Four of his kin have fallen to my blade alone this day.”_ _ _ _

____“My God!” I looked at Stephen, who looked right back, eyes wide with astonishment. “She’s killed _four?_ ”_ _ _ _

____“Bragging, surely?”_ _ _ _

____“No.” About that, I was completely sure. “She made taking down that flying pair of shoes look easy.”_ _ _ _

____“Sounds like your kind of woman.” His tone was guarded._ _ _ _

____“Oh, fuck no,” I said with complete honesty. “She scares the shit out of me.”_ _ _ _

____Part of me was pissed that even though we were in the middle of something important – something world-changing, for more than one world – he’d brought our personal shit in to it. Then I berated myself for being such an asshole, even in the privacy of my own head; to him and – yes – to me, the way we behaved around each other was world-changing, because it changed _our_ worlds. A word or phrase out of place, a single misunderstood intention, and it wouldn’t just destroy our relationship. It would destroy our friendship._ _ _ _

____The dude in the robes was talking again. “But none have yet stood against Alduin himself. Galthor, Sorri, Birkir…”_ _ _ _

____The names meant nothing to me. Maybe they were other warriors, other dragon-killers._ _ _ _

____“They did not have Dragonrend,” Gormlaith said. “Once we bring him down, I promise I will have his head.” There was a steely resolve in her voice that I recognised. Whatever it took, she meant to follow through with her promise._ _ _ _

____“You do not understand,” Robe Guy said. It almost sounded as if he was pleading. “Alduin cannot be slain like a lesser dragon. He is beyond our strength.” He reached into his robes and withdrew a long, tube-like item. “Which is why I brought the Elder Scroll.”_ _ _ _

____I heard Stephen’s sharp intake of breath. Saw one hand reach out, fingers extended, as if he wanted to take the Scroll._ _ _ _

____He let his hand drop. When I risked a look at his face, his features were tight with longing._ _ _ _

____“You can’t play with another world’s toys, dude,” I said. “Sorry ‘bout that.”_ _ _ _

____He surprised me with a snort, releasing some of his tension. “The Elder Scrolls don’t belong to any one world. They belong to the Multiverse.”_ _ _ _

____“Gonna take your word on that one.”_ _ _ _

____“Felldir!” Hakon exclaimed. “We agreed not to use it!”_ _ _ _

____“Sensible,” Stephen muttered._ _ _ _

____“ _I_ never agreed,” came Felldir’s reply. “And if you are right, I will not need it.” _ _ _ _

____“No. We will deal with Alduin ourselves, here and now.”_ _ _ _

____“We shall see soon enough,” Gormlaith interrupted. “Alduin approaches!”_ _ _ _

____“So be it,” Hakon growled._ _ _ _

____I felt the World-Eater’s approach before I saw him. The tight, hard ball of dragon-energy in my chest clenched, gripping my heart in a painful vice, before roaring up into my brain. The world seemed tinged with golden light. I felt as if I was going to explode. Rage – defiance – I wanted to jump right into the sky and fight that arrogant bastard._ _ _ _

____Human caution grabbed the dragon in my heart and slapped it ‘round the head. I was here to watch, not get involved. To _learn._ _ _ _ _

____A huge dark shape exploded out of the crimson sky, vast black wings pumping as he landed on the curved wall. He roared a challenge, jaws stretched wide. I wanted to rush in and tear his throat out, sink my teeth into his neck and just _rip –__ _ _ _

____I let out a slow, controlled breath._ _ _ _

____“ _Meyye! Tahrodis aanne!_ ” Alduin bellowed, his voice not just vibrating my bones but outright shaking them. The power I felt in him was incredible. Terrible, but incredible. “ _Him hinde pah liiv! Zu’u hin daan!_ ”_ _ _ _

____A shrieking noise tore through the air. I looked up in time to see a meteor – an actual fucking _meteor_ – shriek across the sky, ploughing into an outcrop further across the plateau. Another flaming ball of rock screamed out of nowhere. The sky, already crimson, now crackled with flashes of yellow and white. A Shout that created a goddamned meteor…_ _ _ _

____It was a living nightmare. I stared, helpless to do anything in the face of my competing instincts. The human side of me wanted to get the hell out of Dodge. The Dovah part wanted to spread my wings and challenge Alduin. Neither side was winning._ _ _ _

____“Boss, you’re showing heightened levels of anxiety,” F.R.I.D.A.Y said, switching to an in-suit channel. “Should I let Stephen know?”_ _ _ _

____“No,” I croaked. She hadn’t said anything earlier, so my physical responses to this shit-show must have been significantly more intense. “I’ve got this.”_ _ _ _

____I hoped I hadn’t just made myself a liar._ _ _ _

____Alduin stretched his wings out again, neck extended, and leapt into the sky. Snow billowed around the wind he created._ _ _ _

____“Let those that watch from Sovngarde envy us this day!” Gormlaith yelled. “ _Joor-Zah-Frul!_ ”_ _ _ _

____Blue light erupted around Alduin’s frame, dragging him to the ground. He slammed into a snowbank. I reeled back before the repulsors kicked in and stabilised me; each word felt like a punch to the gut. I understood their meaning because I _felt_ them, in my brain, in my heart, in my fucking soul. _Finite – mortal – temporary._ The only way to make a dragon afraid; the only way to make him understand that he had a shelf-life. That he could be killed._ _ _ _

____That he was no more important than the sprawling mass of humanity he claimed to rule._ _ _ _

____“ _Nivahriin joore!_ What have you done?” Panic twisted Alduin’s voice, panic and rage and that new, unshakeable understanding of his own mortality. “What twisted Words have you created? _Tahradiis Paarthurnax!_ My teeth to his neck!” _ _ _ _

_____Paarthurnax._ I latched onto the familiar word, rifling back through my memory to find where I’d heard it. The dragon who’d taught humans how to Shout? Man, no wonder Alduin wanted to kill him._ _ _ _

_____My teeth to his neck._ The threat made me feel… it was a challenge. The ultimate sign of Dovah superiority. _ _ _ _

____Alduin rolled in the snow, struggling to right himself, spreading his wings to knock the snow away. “But first… _dir ko maar._ You will die in terror, knowing your final fate… to feed my power when I come for you in Sovngarde!”_ _ _ _

_____Sovngarde._ Even though I’d heard the name a couple times now, even though I’d talked about it with Stephen, it still sent fear burning down my spine. Sovngarde – a realm of the dead – was no metaphor. It was real._ _ _ _

____“If I die today, it will not be in terror,” Gormlaith declared. There was a new calmness to her voice that I envied. But it also frightened me – it was the voice of a woman who knew she was about to die, and had made her peace with it. My respect for the warrior shot through the roof._ _ _ _

____Alduin tried to rise, spreading his wings again. The snow around him was a churned-up mess._ _ _ _

____“ _Joor-Zah-Frul!_ ” This time it was Fellrith who Shouted. I was shaken by its simplicity, the depth of its power, the fear it instilled. A very human Shout in the dragon tongue. _We will not bow down,_ it said. _We will not be cowed. You are not our masters._ The biggest ‘fuck you’ I’d ever seen._ _ _ _

____Alduin slammed back into the snow, his wings fouled by the glow of blue magic winding around his body._ _ _ _

____“You feel fear for the first time, worm,” Gormlaith called. “I see it in your eyes. Skyrim will be free!”_ _ _ _

____As one, the three humans moved in on the downed dragon – Gormlaith with her flashing sword; Hakon with his battle-axe, and Felldir with a glowing ball of energy in each hand. I couldn’t take my eyes off the fight. There was no finesse, none of the back-and-forth I’d seen with the earlier battle; this was just a sheer, bloody slog, a hack-and-slash of claw and blade and spell._ _ _ _

____Great gashes appeared in Alduin’s flanks, but his teeth and his claws were red with human blood. He lunged; Gormlaith, tiring now, was just too slow. Those powerful jaws clamped down on her body._ _ _ _

____He tossed his head back, shaking her, before dumping her body on the snow._ _ _ _

____“ _No, damn you!_ ” Hakon bellowed, his voice cracking with pain and rage._ _ _ _

____Alduin’s jaws gaped again. This time he let out a tremendous gout of flame; it washed over Hakon, and I had a heart-stopping moment when I thought he’d be the next to drop. But when the flame cleared he was still standing. A little burned – steaming in the snow – but resolute as a fucking rock. Whatever magic he was packing, it was good._ _ _ _

____“It’s no use!” the warrior yelled. “Use the Scroll, Felldir! Now!”_ _ _ _

____“Hold, Alduin on the Wing!” Felldir bellowed. I groaned – this was no time for dramatic, ye-olde-world declarations. “Sister Hawk, grant us your sacred breath to make this contract heard!” He held the Scroll aloft in both hands, the long sleeves of his robes billowing in the wind. “Begone, World-Eater! By words with older bones than your own we break your perch on this age and send you out! You are banished! Alduin, we Shout you out from all our endings unto the last!”_ _ _ _

_____A simple goddamned ‘You die now’ would have done,_ I thought._ _ _ _

____Then Felldir read from the Scroll, and I forgot everything except the scene in front of us._ _ _ _

____“ _Faal Kel…?!_ ” Again there was panic in Alduin’s voice. Panic and confusion. “ _Nikrinne…_ ”_ _ _ _

____Ropes of vivid green light crawled over his body, expanding like fat snakes until he was completely obscured. The ball contracted with a sharp snap and vanished._ _ _ _

____Alduin was gone._ _ _ _

____“You are banished!” Felldir called into the sudden, shocking silence._ _ _ _

____I was suddenly sick of the dramatic declarations. Sick of the fighting. Alduin was gone, but not dead; rather than fighting him here, _killing_ him here, they’d done nothing more than push him forward in time. Made him someone else’s problem. _ _ _ _

____Made him _my_ problem._ _ _ _

____Alduin wasn’t just a dragon. He was _the_ dragon. The first of his kind. The first creation of a being of power who could shape reality with his – its? – thoughts. And yet all Skyrim had been able to throw at him was these three ‘heroes’. Unless… these three were the _last_ heroes? The only ones with the martial and magical skill to take on a monster like Alduin?_ _ _ _

____I wondered again what had happened to this era’s Dragonborn. I had to speak to Arngeir._ _ _ _

____“It worked,” Hakon said, panting with exertion. He was steaming in the cold. “You did it.”_ _ _ _

____“Yes, the World-Eater is gone…” Felldir shook his head. “May the spirits have mercy on our souls.”_ _ _ _

____“He knew,” I growled, scowling at him. “He knew _exactly_ what that fucking Scroll would do! No guessing, no hesitation! He knew he was kicking Alduin down the line to someone else!”_ _ _ _

____“Sometimes the only option is a terrible one,” Stephen remarked. His voice was heavy._ _ _ _

____I gave him a sideways look, feeling my anger trickle away. He’d spoken with the voice of experience._ _ _ _

____He’d been in that position before._ _ _ _

____Hell, _I’d_ been in that position before._ _ _ _


	28. 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Returning to present day-Earth, Stephen is caught in the blast when the rig explodes. Tony admits to himself that he loves him.

We made it back to the portal without incident. Recalling how the first time-trip made me want to puke in my suit, I closed my eyes the moment Stephen took hold of the Eye of Agamotto. But I could still see streaks of turquoise across my closed lids.

Everything lurched to one side. I knew it was just an illusion, that my body wasn’t really moving, but that didn’t stop me instinctually broadening my stance to make it more stable. 

The turquoise streaks became smears. A high-pitched whine made my ears hurt, drilling into my brain, becoming painful. Agonising. I yelled, but if any sound came out of my mouth, I couldn’t hear it. My eyes wouldn’t open.

And then – just as I thought I was about to start screaming – reality reasserted itself. I opened my eyes. We were back in the lab –

Turquoise light arced between each of the feathers, spiking off the ceiling and walls. Something was wrong. Stephen was beside me, the Eye of Agamotto locked in both hands, his eyes closed. His mouth had thinned to a grimace. Whatever was happening, he was in pain.

“What’s going on?” I growled. “F.R.I.D.A.Y?”

“Fluctuating energy levels, boss. Stephen is trying to control them.”

I lurched over to the nearest console, calling up the manual controls. Shit. The energy spikes were through the _roof –_

One of the feathers exploded, sending shards of glass streaking through the air. My suit deflected them. Stephen got an arcane shield up… but not in time. Jagged splinters shredded through his clothes and drove him to his knees.

Another feather exploded. The Cloak of Levitation wrapped around his body. I tried to get the power levels down, flicking through the controls, trying to diagnose the problem. _No time._ A third and fourth feather exploded in quick succession, the combined concussive force enough to blast me back against the laboratory wall. I was – briefly – glad that this section of the lab had been sectioned off from the rest.

Stephen wasn’t just on his knees now, he was down; the arcane shield was gone, his concentration broken by the blast. I ran back to him, grabbing him under the shoulders so I could drag him out of the way as another feather exploded. Unconscious? Dead? _Please,_ please _don’t be dead,_ I begged silently, getting him toward the edge of the room. As soon as the Cloak realised what I was doing, it helped, lifting him up and getting him out of harm’s way.

The remaining feathers exploded, one after another, the blast force so intense I was knocked off my feet. I slammed into the wall again, cursing as the impact rattled my ribs and set off every single fucking bruise I’d picked up over the last week. Needles of pain prickled down my leg.

I shook my head, trying to clear the ringing in my ears. F.R.I.D.A.Y was speaking in urgent tones. I couldn’t hear what she said. 

All I saw was Stephen, smashed against the wall, the Cloak fluttering around his unmoving body. 

~~&~~

I got him to the medical suite. I picked Peter up on the way. He’d been in his own world, busy coding bone nanites, oblivious to the big kids playing with fireworks in the lab next door. The Cloak hovered at Stephen’s side. For a magical garment, I was coming to learn it had its own way of expressing itself. Right now it was radiating anxiety.

I deactivated the suit and stripped Stephen down to his underpants. He was covered in lacerations and gashes. Bloody wounds. Some long, some short. Most of them were deep. I cleaned each one, using the advanced medical equipment to be sure there were no shards left embedded in his skin, then sealed them. 

Some only needed a couple steri-strips. Others needed stitches. I covered each wound with sterile dressings. Both Peter and the Cloak helped, each handing me whatever piece of equipment I needed when I asked for it.

When I was done I got Stephen into a hospital gown. I didn’t think he’d appreciate it, but he’d done the same for me, so it felt like the right thing to do. His skin seemed so pale against the blue fabric. I covered him with a blanket, dragged a chair next to his bed, and settled down to wait for him to wake up. In a display of friendship that almost made me tear up, the Cloak draped itself over my lap.

“Maybe you should go take a rest,” Peter said, an hour after I was done. Stephen showed no signs of coming round. My initial triage had included a full-body scan, so I knew that being thrown against a wall hadn’t damaged his brain. It was a small relief: - what I didn’t know was whether the explosion – the uncontrolled release of so much magical energy – had damaged something critical inside him. Some part of his psyche. Basic medicine? I could do that. Magical healing? Way beyond me.

“Can’t rest,” I croaked. “Not until I know he’s gonna be OK.”

“I can call you if he wakes up. _When_ he wakes up,” Peter corrected at my frown.

“What I need…” I let out a hard breath. “Distract me, kid.” I winced. “Sorry. I gotta stop calling you that.”

His soft smile surprised me. “I don’t mind. Part of me thinks you’ll be eighty and still calling me ‘kid’.”

“Ha! You’re assuming I’ll live that long.” My eyes were drawn inexorably back to Stephen. His skin still seemed so goddamned white. He was always pale – he just had that kind of complexion – but now? He looked like a tall glass of milk.

“You _will,_ ” he said fiercely, leaning forward. A muscle clenched in his jaw. “And you know why? Because you’re Iron Man. You _always_ find a way.”

I tried to smile, touched at his faith, struggling to believe. I always _tried_ – tried so hard I damned near tore myself to pieces – but that wasn’t the same as succeeding. 

I didn’t have the heart to correct him.

~~&~~

When F.R.I.D.A.Y reminded us it was lunchtime, I sent Peter out to the kitchen for a proper break. Rather than take my own advice I started digging into the rig’s coding, looking for any error or flaw in the programming that would have caused an overload. I didn’t find any – it was pretty simple coding – so I started looking again. And again. I kept going over and over it, determined to find something, _anything,_ to explain why the fucking thing had blown up. The Cloak kept me company, splitting its time between my lap and Stephen’s unconscious body.

Eventually I had to admit there wasn’t a goddamned thing wrong with the coding. Which had to mean it was a problem with the hardware. Something had been wrong with the titanium frame, a – a loose join, maybe – or the bronze coating. Maybe it was too thick in places, or too thin, or not sealed properly –

“There was nothing wrong with it,” Stephen croaked.

I almost dropped the tablet I was so startled, deep inside my own blueprints. He was awake – not fully, not yet – but his eyes were open and he was looking at me. I shoved the tablet aside and fumbled for his hand, hesitating at the last moment. Would he welcome it?

I had nothing to worry about. His fingers inched across the gap, closing around mine, the tremble vibrating through my own fingers. The Cloak – which had been curled up by his feet like a dog – stretched along his legs, the fabric rippling.

“You’re cold,” I said, feeling the chill of his skin against mine. “Let me get you another blanket –”

“Don’t go,” he said immediately.

I tightened my grip. “I’m not going anywhere, big guy. How d’you feel? You want some painkillers? We’ve got Tylenol, Advil, probably some stronger stuff –”

He closed his eyes for a second but not, I thought, from tiredness. He was frustrated… with me. I shut my mouth.

“I just want you to sit with me for a minute,” he croaked. “Can you do that?”

“Sure. But only ‘cause you asked so nice.” That provoked a half-smile, as I’d hoped. “You uh, you got knocked around pretty bad there.” There was a cut on his face, a thin yet jagged line that looped over the side of his jaw and down to his neck, and numerous smaller nicks. “My fault. I’m… I’m sorry.”

“ _Not_ your fault,” he corrected. “There was nothing wrong with the tech. That rig was damned near the most beautiful piece of arcane machinery I’ve ever seen.”

The compliment went straight to my heart. I found myself stroking his knuckles with my thumb. If he’d realised – if he’d noticed – he didn’t try to pull away.

“Then what went wrong?”

“Me.”

“Uh…”

“I tried to draw on too much power for the return journey,” he explained. “Too much energy filtering through the Eye. My mistake. I’m sorry. Are you…” He cleared his throat. “Are _you_ hurt?”

“No,” I said immediately. “Got knocked into the wall, but the suit cushioned it.” That wasn’t strictly true – my body ached from the impact, from all my other barely-healed or not-healed-at-all injuries. My leg was throbbing. 

From the way Stephen looked at me, I think he saw through my bullshit. But I’d tell him whatever he needed to hear.

“I could have killed you,” he rasped. His fingers clenched around mine.

“Don’t you dare beat yourself up over this,” I growled, giving his hand a little shake for emphasis. “The tech was untested. The magic was untested. This is all new.”

He sighed, eyes closing. It was clear he didn’t believe me.

“Hey,” I said. “We knew this was gonna be a risk. If I could have made it the other way around – got all sliced up instead – then I would, OK? I’m already kind of busted, it makes no difference to me if I get a few more scratches –”

“Don’t you dare say that!” he growled. He dragged his hand away so he could heave himself into a sitting position. He let out another frustrated noise, letting his head drop back against the pillows. “We need you alive and well, Tony. You’re the _Dovahkiin._ You’re the only person who can defeat Alduin.” He searched my face. I don’t know what he found there. “And I… _I_ need you.”

I leaned over the edge of the bed and hugged him, moving without thinking. Wrapped my arms around his shoulders. Pressed my face against the side of his neck. He smelled of sweat and something deeper, his own scent, something that curled deep inside my brain. He stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, his arms looping loosely around my torso.

“Need you too,” I mumbled in his ear.

We stayed like that until needles of pain started prickling along my back. Even then I stayed where I was, just drinking up his proximity. It felt so fucking good to sit like this.

“You stink,” he whispered eventually.

I laughed against his shoulder, finally pulling away, the spell broken. My back thanked me for sitting up straight, though the rest of me wanted to move right back in.

“You’re no bath bomb yourself,” I drawled. 

“But I am _the_ bomb?”

“Oh, yeah.”

~~&~~

The humour broke the tension, but it didn’t break the closeness. While I took a shower, Stephen opened a portal back to Kamar-Taj for his own shower and a change of clothes, a tunic and pants that weren’t shredded. I seemed to spend half my life under running water.

We convened in the kitchen. Peter had called for take-out, and he sat in the middle of a stack of pizza boxes, half-way through a slice of pepperoni. 

“Figured you’d all be hungry,” he said.

I virtually drooled. “You figured right. Food, food, my God.”

Nobody talked until the pizza was pretty much gone. Stephen looked better – in as much as he _could_ look better when he was cut to shit – but his colour was up, and he didn’t look half-dead anymore. I hoped I never, ever saw that shade of white on his skin again, but I was realistic enough to know it was a possibility.

I ducked out for a few minutes to look at the ruined part of my lab. There was debris everywhere, the tangled wreckage of titanium poles and shattered glass. It crunched underfoot. There were scorch marks on the walls.

“One-time thing,” I muttered to myself. “We’ll never have to do this again.” Except, in the back of my head, I wondered. Stephen had his own business going on as Sorcerer Supreme, and who was to say he wouldn’t need to go way back in time again? If he asked me to build another rig, I would. Without hesitation. I’d bitch and whine about it, let him know I thought it was too dangerous, but I’d still do it. Because he’d asked. 

It felt like everything was happening so fast. Hard to believe it had only been eight days since Alduin’s attack at the courthouse. Eight days since Richard Montgomery had escaped and gone on the run, my life had been turned upside down, and my whole outlook changed. 

But those eight days had been thousands of years in the making. Gormlaith, Hakon and Felldir, they’d made their last stand on another world in another time. I couldn’t blame them for sending Alduin down the line. You had to work with what you had. That was the _only_ option they’d had.

This thing with Stephen… that also felt as if it was happening too fast. Not even a whole week had passed since I’d kissed him. And was it only yesterday we’d taken that next step, the step that put my dick in his hand and his in my mouth. Just thinking about it now was enough to send hot shivers down my body.

Excitement. Exhaustion. 

Overwhelming. Overpowering. 

But like Alduin, our burgeoning relationship hadn’t been an overnight flash. The seeds of our attraction had started with our spiky friendship two years ago and they’d done nothing but grow, waiting for the right opportunity. 

Looking at the wreckage of the rig scattered across the lab, I acknowledged to myself that I cared about him. That when he got hurt – whatever the reason – it hurt me, too. 

I admitted that I loved him. 

“I thought I’d find you here.” Stephen’s quiet voice broke my introspection. He stood beside me, surveying the wreckage.

I couldn’t tell him how I felt. Not yet. The realisation was too raw, too fresh.

“Ah, F.R.I.D.A.Y, get DUM-E in here, will ya?” I hurried to say. “Place needs a dustpan and brush.”

“Let it go, Tony.” He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “What’s done is done.”

It was another echo of the conversation we’d had a couple days ago. When he’d begun to understand he’d have to learn how to cope when someone he cared about got hurt in combat. I guess I was just as guilty of those feelings; though I recognised it for it was, I’d never really learned to deal in a healthy way. I’d built Pepper an Iron Man suit because in my head, that was the only way to give her the same level of protection I used on myself.

I couldn’t do that for Stephen. I couldn’t protect him the way I wanted. I guessed maybe he couldn’t protect me the way he wanted, either. We just had to trust that we’d look out for ourselves the best way we could, and be there to pick each other up when we couldn’t.

“Fuck it,” I said. “You’re right.”

He grinned. “Of course I am. Sorcerer Supreme, right?”

“Oh hey, let me get an extension built for that ego.”


	29. 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Peter finish coding the bone nanites and finally begin testing. That night, both Tony and Stephen suffer nightmares, and offer comfort to each other. In the morning, they have a conversation with Arngeir about Dragon Cultists.

“So… what happens next?” Peter asked as we came back to the kitchen. There was coffee ready for me on the table and a pot of tea for Stephen. I didn’t deserve to have Peter in my life. “I mean, did you get what you wanted from your time-hop?”

I let out a hard breath. “I’ve got Dragonrend,” I said. “It’ll weaken Alduin, force him to land. If he’s down he’s easier to hit. Won’t stop him Shouting, though.”

“I don’t think we _can_ stop him Shouting,” Stephen cautioned. “It’s an innate draconic ability. But Dragonrend gives us power we didn’t have before. It gives us an edge.”

“How do we find him?” Peter asked.

“I was thinking of putting up ‘Lost Dragon’ posters,” I said. “You know, ‘have you seen this scaley boi, tendency to Shout but is really very soft’ kind of thing.”

Peter laughed. Stephen groaned, dragging a hand down his face, which made me laugh. 

“I think the next step is to talk to Arngeir,” Stephen said. “Let him know we’ve got Dragonrend. He may have some idea how to locate Alduin.”

“I guess I need to call Fury,” I said reluctantly. “Keep him in the loop.”

“Wait till we’ve spoken to Arngeir,” Stephen suggested.

“Works for me,” I said with a grunt. “Peter, how’re you getting on with that coding? Now I’m not charging back through time, I can help.”

He looked relieved. “Appreciate it. It’s… well, it’s slow work.”

I grinned. “That’s coding for you. You clear one bug, another billion stick their heads up.”

“I think this is my cue to leave,” Stephen said dryly. “As soon as the science geeks start talking about geek things, I’m gone.”

“Oh, you did _not,_ ” I said, giving him a faux-aggrieved look. “You did _not_ just call us that, Mr-I-Can-Move-Shit-With-My-Mind.”

“I for one welcome my status as a science geek,” Peter said, raising a finger as an exclamation point.

I laughed. “In magic terms, coding is basically just… it’s, like, knots in the flow of energy,” I said, thinking about my experiences over the last couple days. “You get rid of the knots, the energy flows.”

“Then I consider myself educated,” Stephen remarked with a sharp smile. “I also consider myself out of here. I’ll be at the Sanctum – call me when you’re ready to speak to Arngeir.”

~~&~~

We spent the rest of the day coding. It was easier for me – I already had whole chunks of code ready and waiting to go from the existing Iron Man program – but seeing how those sections of code interacted with the bone nanites was a slow process.

We watched as we tested the most recent section of code. A silver-white ball of nanites, about the size of my fist, hovered in front of us. Mindful of the rig explosion, I’d put up a transparent screen in case anything went wrong. I didn’t expect it… but a lifetime’s worth of experience taught me to be prepared.

So far, the programming was doing exactly what it was supposed to. I tapped out an instruction on the tablet and the nanite ball responded, forming a series of shapes – a cube; a flat, square sheet; an eight-inch long erect penis.

“Dude!” Peter said, aghast. “You made a _dick?_ ”

“You know what they say about life imitating art,” I laughed, ending the program and letting the nanites return to their ball shape. Peter just shook his head. “Come on, if it’s good enough for all those grand masters of painting, it’s good enough for me.”

~~&~~

I sent Peter home after the third – or was it the fourth? – angry text from May. He still had homework, and I’d already taken up enough of his time.

“But I’ve still got all this coding to do!” he said. His face was flushed from the day’s hard work, and his eyes had taken on a look I knew all too well. If I let him, he’d go till he dropped. 

“Listen, man, May’s on my back,” I said. “Help a guy out. I’m not going against that woman. She scares the hell out of me.”

That made him laugh, as I’d hoped, and he went home with a smile rather than a sulk. Maybe I was finally starting to get the hang of this whole substitute-father thing.

But dishing out advice – and taking my own – were two entirely different things. As soon as Peter was gone I went back to coding. I had plenty of extras: - specifically, increased resistances against extremes of temperature. Protection against electrical surges. What I really wanted to add was a way to counter whatever had negated the nanite cohesion field, but that was a bust. Until I had hard data on how Montgomery had done it, all I had were best guesses. I _hated_ working with guesses.

“Go to bed, boss.”

“What? Busy here…”

“It’s gone midnight.”

“Not like I turn into a pumpkin, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

“Am I going to have to nag you every time you get a new project?”

“Yes. Yes, you are.” I laughed softly and went to bed.

~~&~~

Not surprisingly, I had a nightmare about what I’d seen on top of that plateau on the Throat of the World. It started out much as I recalled, with the three heroes squaring off against Alduin. But instead of using the Dragonrend Shout against him, they used it against Stephen instead. 

My subconscious made me watch – helpless, terrified – as magic ripped through his body. The Cloak of Levitation disintegrated. Stephen plummeted out of the sky, disappearing through a thin layer of clouds.

I chased after him, desperate to catch him before he hit the ground. Closer. Closer. I shot through the cloud level, straining toward him with every muscle, fibre and sinew in my body.

It wasn’t enough. He slammed into the ground. I was too late.

“See how all oppose me die.” Alduin’s voice rumbled through the air, coming from everywhere and nowhere. 

“ _Joor-Zah-Frul!_ ” I bellowed the words, energy exploding out of me in a torrent of rage and pain. But it was directionless. Without a target I was basically pissing into the wind, and that infuriated me even more. “Get down here!” I screamed, pouring power into the repulsors so I could gain more height. “Fucking _coward,_ get down here!”

But when I finally crested the summit again, Alduin was gone. The Nords were gone. I was alone, with nothing but the howling wind and snow to keep my shattered heart company.

~~&~~

When I woke I was crying. No sweat. No rumpled sheets. Just a damp pillow, wet eyes, and a tight throat.

Orange sparks broke the darkness. A portal.

“Didn’t ask you to call him,” I croaked as I sat up, trying to scrub the tears off my face. This was turning into a bad habit.

“I didn’t.” F.R.I.D.A.Y’s voice was soft, barely audible.

“Then how…” I shook my head, caught in a sob. I covered my mouth with both hands.

Stephen stepped hesitantly through the portal, a soft yellow light glowing in the palm of his hand. He was wearing pyjama bottoms and nothing else. Even in the faint light, the sterile dressings covering his body were painful to see.

“I dreamed you were dead,” he whispered.

Without stopping to think, I flipped a corner of the blanket aside and patted the bed. Extinguishing the portal, he crossed the room in several large strides and slid in beside me, snuffing the light as he went.

It took a few seconds of awkward elbows and knees before we settled ourselves. I couldn’t articulate how fucking good it felt to have him next to me, how goddamned _right_ it felt when he put an arm around my shoulders and I snuggled down close to his chest. There was no hesitation from either of us. We moved as if we’d done this a hundred times. A thousand.

“I dreamed you were dead, too,” I mumbled.

His arms tightened around me. “Is it always going to be like this?”

I thought of the way I’d felt with Pepper. My need to protect her. The fear – fully realised when she’d died – that I couldn’t.

“Yeah,” I said. “I think it is.” I forced myself to push the question out. “Still think we’re worth it?”

“ _Yes._ ” His answer was out the moment I’d finished speaking. “Yes, dammit.”

That was how I’d felt about my relationship with Pepper. And it was how I felt about my relationship with him. You couldn’t let fear hold you back, or you’d end up denying a part of yourself. Denying something that could be the best part of your life.

Right then – right there – I almost admitted to Stephen that I loved him. But the light, barely audible snore told me he’d already fallen asleep. 

My heart swelled. That he’d dropped off so easily was a testament to how he felt around me: - safe, comforted. Protected, for whatever illusory level of protection my presence could offer. 

_Yes._ We were worth it. Our relationship was worth it. These feelings right now, they were worth it.

They were worth everything.

~~&~~

When I woke the next morning, Stephen was still asleep. He was sprawled across the bed, face buried against the pillow. He’d drooled a little. But it was that very relaxation that made me lean in and press my lips to the back of his head.

And it was that same relaxation that meant he didn’t immediately go from sleep to combat. Didn’t over-react at waking up in a strange bed. This wasn’t the first time he’d been here, and I marvelled about that, too.

“Your breath is terrible,” he mumbled, eyes still closed.

That made me laugh. “Check yourself, dude.”

He dragged his face out of the pillow, rubbing at his gummed-up eyes and wincing. The movement must have pulled at his cuts.

“I don’t care,” he said, and kissed me.

His lips were dry and a little cracked. It was just a short kiss, a fleeting there-and-gone peck, but it made me wake up in a hurry.

“Sorry for last night,” he said, pulling back, sinking against the pillow as he stared up at the ceiling.

“Sorry for what?” I said, rolling onto my side, head propped on my hand so I could see him. “Friends know they can come over when they’re feeling down. _Good_ friends know they can over any time.”

“And me?” He turned his head.

“You get to hog the blanket.” I reached out to touch his shoulder, avoiding a dressing that curled onto his back.

He rolled onto his side to face me. This time he was careful to hide the wince, but not careful enough.

“I won’t do this again,” he said. “Crashing your sleep in the middle of the night. It’s just so…” He closed his eyes, drew a slow breath. “Needy.”

“I was already awake,” I said immediately. “Because I needed you, too.”

His grey eyes seemed luminous in the morning sunlight. I reached out to touch his face, tracing his cheekbone, skirting the edge of the dressing on his chin.

“Ever wish you could just… put it down?” he asked. “Stop being Iron Man, I mean. Let someone else have the responsibility. Go back to being a regular guy.”

This was a conversation I’d had – or at least, a version of this conversation – with Pepper, many times. Only this time, Stephen was able to look at it from the other side. 

“Yeah,” I replied. “All the time. But that’s the thing with responsibility – you carry it for as long as you can. You carry it till it breaks you.” Then I smiled. “Or until someone else comes along and helps you carry it.”

He leaned in and kissed me again, hands framing my face, warm tongue sliding easily into my mouth. I gave in to the moment and kissed him back.

~~&~~

Still stretched out in bed next to me, he created a portal on the wall. It opened up to a room I’d never seen before. His bedroom in the Sanctum, maybe? I loved the synchronicity, the feeling that we shared something. That we had a concrete connection that reflected our unseen connection. 

“You’ve got that look on your face,” Stephen said as he climbed out of bed, loping over to the portal. The sight of his barely-dressed body – even if it was covered with dressings – dragged my attention away from the Sanctum before I’d had more than a glimpse. In the bright light of day his pale skin seemed to glow. He was like a living porcelain statue.

“What look?” I asked, moving into the warm space he’d left behind. I caught a whiff of his scent and took a deeper breath, trying to be subtle about it.

He tilted his head to one side, considering. “A… gentle look.”

“I can do gentle. I’m all about the gentle. In fact I’m nothing _but_ gentle.”

He put his hands on his hips. “You’re Iron Man, Tony.”

I smiled. “Only when I put the suit on. The rest of the time, I’m just this overgrown man-child who can’t stop thinking about how lucky I am.”

“You’re getting sentimental.”

“I’m also getting horny.” No sense beating around the bush. “Get back in bed or get lost, Strange.”

~~&~~

Later – after a shower, breakfast, and time spent making sure Stephen’s wounds weren’t getting infected – we had a conference with Arngeir. It was late in the day at Kamar-Taj, early evening. The sunlight was gone but the place blazed with lamplight. 

Whatever heat the day had created also left with the sun. Knowing it would be damned cold, I’d dressed in layers, a T-shirt under a sweater and, this time, a jacket. Stephen, of course, always seemed to act as if the cold didn’t exist, and he was wearing a black tunic and pants that reminded me a little of his pyjamas. That could just have been my subconscious telling me it wanted to get back into bed with him.

We found Arngeir strolling the grounds, observing students taking instruction from Wong. Still wrapped in the dark grey robes I’d seen the other day, he looked completely at home here.

If he couldn’t return to Nirn, this _was_ his new home. I wondered about that as we approached. Stephen had proven he _could_ open a portal to Nirn, though I suspected he’d underplayed the difficulty. He’d mentioned it was ‘quite a few dimensions away’ from our own. But he’d opened it again to get us back home, so…

I pushed those thoughts aside for now. We had so many other things to think about.

“Dragonborn.” Arngeir greeted me with a nod.

_Dragonborn._ I don’t think I’d ever get used to hearing that.

“Arngeir. You’re looking better.”

“Feeling better, too. Master Stephen tells me you succeeded with your attempt to recover the Dragonrend Shout.”

“Yeah.” Stephen was leading us inside and into an airy, well-lit room. The furniture was a little spare, but there were chairs and tables. “I’ve got it. It’s…” Images from the Throat of the World flashed through my head. “It’s brutal. Alduin had no concept of his own mortality, of his own vulnerability, and then _boom._ He got his face rubbed in it.”

“Sympathy for the World-Eater?” he asked, settling at one of the tables.

I pulled a chair out, reversed it, and straddled the seat, arms braced over the back. My leg was jittering.

“Not sympathy.” Alduin was a monster, no doubt about that, but he was what he’d been created to be. Drunk on his own power. “Empathy, maybe?”

“The soul of a Dovah is a powerful tool.”

“No shit,” I grunted. I wondered how many other pithy sayings and motivational phrases he had up those wide grey sleeves. “So I know Dragonrend. I know Unrelenting Force. The only thing I don’t know is how to find Alduin.”

“He will find you, Dragonborn. You have only to be patient.”

“Yeah, not real good on the whole ‘patience’ thing,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “And while I’m sitting on my ass waiting for him to stick his head over the wall, he could be off doing God knows what.”

“The Nord heroes mentioned something about defiance,” Stephen remarked, stroking his chin. He’d settled in a chair next to mine. “When we arrived, they were fighting another dragon.”

I followed his chain of thought. “You think they brought him down with Dragonrend to get Alduin’s attention?”

“If he’s linked to _all_ dragons…”

“So what was the fight on the ground about?”

“A distraction would be my best bet,” Arngeir remarked. “The dragons had their own cult. To their closest followers, they gifted magical abilities beyond the knowledge of mortal man. Dragon Priests enforced the laws, meted out discipline, and conducted terrible experiments. They were a human representation of their Dovah oppressors.”

Now that was a horrifying thought. Alduin had been in our world for a little over a week now. Where did he go when he wasn’t popping up like a Whack-A-Dragon? Was he busy recruiting a new cheerleading team?

I made a note to mention it to Fury. He had resources – specifically manpower – that I did not. If anyone had heard whispers of cults, it would be S.H.I.E.L.D.

“So basically,” I said, rubbing my forehead to alleviate the small, spiteful tension headache, “we’ve either gotta wait until Alduin appears… or until he raises another dragon?”

“That is correct,” Arngeir said. “I see that you do not like your options.”

“What gave you that impression?” I said with a sour smile.

“Waiting needn’t mean inactivity,” he cautioned. “It means time to strengthen your position. Practise your Shouts. Test your limits.”

I gave him a thoughtful look. “I’m making armour out of Usreyth’s bones.”

Arngeir smiled. “There you go, then. There are things to do.”


	30. 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Stephen is forced to remain at Kamar-Taj to deal with sorcerer business, Tony keeps Fury up to date with their progress. Fury tells him that during a recovery operation, Richard Montgomery was snatched by Alduin, and is likely being turned into a Dragon Priest. Furious with the news, desperate to talk to Stephen but knowing he can’t disturb him, he works himself in the gym to the point of collapse then buries himself in coding.  
> Tony sets up a watch on the dragon burial mounds, and spots Wanda Maximoff near the site of the London mound.

I hated the idea of waiting. I wanted to go out and fight, if only to ease the tension twisting me up from the inside. But I’d been in enough battles to appreciate the quieter times between conflicts.

“I have to stay here for a while,” Stephen said as we left Arngeir and headed back to the courtyard. The students had dispersed, either for a break or for other studies. “A day, perhaps two.”

“Sure,” I said, trying to ignore the sudden misery pulsing through my chest. Two fucking days? “You’ve got mystic stuff, Kamar-Taj needs you.” 

I was growing used to his company – too used to it – and the idea of being away from him was a black cloud over my sunny day. It was stupid, melodramatic. The stuff of teenaged angst. That didn’t make my feelings any less valid.

I reached out to pull him closer, then let my hand drop. I had no idea whether he was into PDAs. There were no students around, but this was still his workplace. He held power and authority here.

But his fingers clamped down on my shoulder, yanking me off balance as he tugged me close. I put my hands up to steady myself and ended up with them on his chest. His arms curled around my waist, his face inches from mine.

“Think I just fell into a romance cliché,” I said. Joy – simple joy – made me smile. 

“There’s a reason they’re clichés,” Stephen replied. His smile matched my own, and when he dipped his head to kiss me, I felt that smile against my lips. The kiss was long and slow, not too deep, but enough that when we finally pulled back, we were breathing hard.

“Yeah?” I said, unable to stop myself kissing his chin. “And what’s that?”

“I’m struggling to remember. Kiss me again?”

~~&~~

Rather than let myself get all mopey about not seeing Stephen for what his mouth said was a couple days but what his eyes said might be longer, I headed straight back to the lab and called Fury. That evaporated the last of my good mood.

I gave him the headline news: - I had a Shout that could ground Alduin and make him weaker. Everything else – the time-hop, my observations, all of it – belonged to me and Stephen.

“Arngeir thinks he’s looking for followers,” I finished, pacing up and down between two work stations. “Dragon Priests. Cultists, he called them.”

Fury let out a long, hard stream of breath. “You’re not gonna like what I’ve got to say next.”

Fuck. How the hell could this get any _worse?_ “Because I’ve liked so many parts of this shit-storm so far?”

His chuckle was short and hard. No humour at all.

“The Paraguay team hit the jackpot following the Pure Human trail,” he explained. “They tracked down one of his generals. The guy gave up his boss.” His tone hardened further. “Eventually. But… this is goddamn crazy.”

“Give it to me.” My sense of unease was growing. I stopped my pacing, leaning against one of the holo units.

“Montgomery was hiding jungle villa,” Fury continued. “My agents were set to move in and intercept. They chased him onto the roof – he was trying to escape via helicopter. Was never gonna happen, we’d already disabled it. But then boom, this goddamned portal opens up, a big-ass black dragon pops through, snatches Montgomery in his claws, then pops out again.”

Blood roared through my ears. My knees gave out; I stumbled, just catching myself against another unit before I took a tumble.

“Run that by me again.” I massaged my fingers over my forehead, eyes closed, as if I could somehow smooth away what I’d just heard.

“Alduin took Montgomery.”

I wanted to scream. I wanted to hurl the phone against the wall, watch it smash, then stamp it into a million broken pieces. I’d worked so hard – so _fucking_ hard – to get Montgomery behind bars. Each time he’d escaped I’d gone after him again. Now, it seemed, Alduin had got to him first, and was probably turning him into some kind of super-powered wizard.

Frustrated tears pricked my eyes. I knuckled them away. I had to call Stephen, let him know what was going on, warn him to be prepared. Hell, _I_ had to be prepared. I wished I’d asked Arngeir a few more questions about Dragon Priests. 

“Stark?”

“Alright,” I said, dragging a hand down over my face. “Alright. Well, at least we kind of know where Montgomery is, and what he’s doing.” My voice sounded unnaturally calm. I was going to crack soon – just break into as many pieces as I’d imagined smashing my phone into – but for the next few minutes, at least, I could keep it together. “Tell me what’s happening with the burial mounds.” 

“We’re getting there.” If Fury had picked up on my state of mine, he made no comment. He wouldn’t give a shit so long as I got the job done. “They’re all in countries where S.H.I.E.L.D has no jurisdiction. Lot of negotiating.” 

“You mean negotiating over who gets to keep the bones,” I grunted. 

His laugh was sour. “If they weren’t under heavily populated areas, we’d just move right in and take ‘em.”

“I believe that.” I had to shut this conversation down as quickly as I could. “We can’t find Alduin. But if I use Dragonrend on the next flying sofa he raises, he’ll see it as a challenge.”

“I don’t like that plan, Stark.”

“Neither do I. But it’s the only one we’ve got.”

~~&~~

I wanted to talk to Stephen so bad my finger hovered over his name in my cell, but in the end I just tapped out a quick text message. I was so angry I didn’t trust myself not to let any conversation we had devolve into an argument. That was _my_ problem, not his. He didn’t deserve my shitty mood. 

I hit the Avengers’ gym. My angry energy drove me part-way through a stupid workout, but my body couldn’t sustain that pace for long; I collapsed on the treadmill. F.R.I.D.A.Y stopped the program and I slid to a graceless stop, every limb aching, knees grazed, leg throbbing. I grabbed a shower and headed back to the lab, determined to bury myself in coding. If I was working I didn’t have to think about anything else.

Stephen – arms folded, full-on Casual Wizard in a dark grey tunic and pants – was waiting for me.

“I called,” he said, light eyes narrowing as they played over my face. “You didn’t pick up. In fact I called a couple of times.”

I didn’t want to argue about not picking up the stupid phone. I wanted… God, I didn’t even know at this point. All I knew was that I needed him and he was here. I just limped across the lab and put my arms around him.

His _heat._ His _scent,_ God. The solidity of his body against mine. All the worry, all the tension, just melted away. For those precious few seconds it was just us.

“Don’t be mad,” I said. “Please. I can’t…” Jesus, what was wrong with me?

“I’m not. Promise.” His lips pressed against the top of my head. “F.R.I.D.A.Y told me you were in the gym. She also told me she informed you – several times – that you were overdoing it. _Then_ she told me you collapsed.”

I pulled back. “You know what snitches get!” I called to F.R.I.D.A.Y.

“An upgrade on their memory?” she asked, her tone hopeful.

I laughed, and finally – _finally_ – the last of my anger dissipated.

“Sorry I disturbed you,” I told Stephen, trying to extricate myself from his hold. “I know you’re busy.”

“Not so busy I can’t spare ten minutes to see how you’re doing.” His tone was serious now, and rather than letting me go, his grip tightened. “I know exactly what you went through to get Montgomery behind bars. I understand how Fury’s news makes you feel.”

I tilted my head up and kissed him. This man, right here, was all I needed to feel better.

~~&~~

His visit really was just for ten minutes, and too soon I had to say goodbye to him all over again. It was goddamned hard. But we let each other go and I watched him walk back through a portal. I don’t know what was worse – trying not to let my anger get the better of me, or wallowing in my own self-pity.

So I did what I always did when the mess in my head was too much to cope with. I worked. It was too easy to slip back into that old pattern, too easy to block out everything else. It was almost a relief.

It took the rest of that day to finish the coding. Peter’s work was solid – he had a good eye, he paid attention to detail – but it needed an experienced hand to make sure all the programs interacted correctly. 

I missed Stephen. I knew we couldn’t spend every moment in each other’s pockets, but I couldn’t help how I felt.

F.R.I.D.A.Y nagged me into an early night. I argued for a while – just to keep my hand in – then gave in with bad grace, but I couldn’t sleep. When I wasn’t thinking about Richard fucking Montgomery, I was thinking about the burial mound sites.

“You should be sleeping,” F.R.I.D.A.Y admonished. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything. Fury says he’s negotiating, but I don’t buy it. That man negotiates with a gun behind his back. If I was him, I‘d be taking steps to extract the bones right now.” I hesitated. “And if I was any of those other governments, I’d also be taking steps.”

“They do have great scientific as well as arcane value.”

“And black market value,” I grumbled. The bones were as strong vibranium and adamantium, two highly controlled – and highly sought – materials. Montgomery still lurked in the back of my mind. I was making armour. Would Alduin allow him to do the same thing? Would he think it was distasteful, a sacrilege, or would he see it as a way to make his goddamn Dragon Priest stronger?

Of course, I had no way to know for sure that was what he was doing. Maybe Alduin had just eaten him. But Montgomery had clout with his own cultists, his Pure Life buddies. There was dark irony to his situation – that a violently pro-human asshole was in the process of being possessed by an alien entity – but that irony didn’t make me feel any better.

“Do you think we should extract them for ourselves?” she suggested.

I hesitated. Every burial mound was underneath a heavily populated area. Extraction could and would be done at some point, by going in through sewer and railway lines – but it would be tough, noisy, and highly disruptive. No way could it be done discreetly, whether it was me doing it, S.H.I.E.L.D, or a terrorist cell.

“No,” I said after a moment. “I’d rather they stayed in the ground. What I do want is to see what kind of attention they’re attracting. Send out the drones.”

It would take hours to get the tiny drones, each equipped with a state-of-the-art camera with audio feed, into place. But it was enough to ease my mind so that I could – eventually – get to sleep.

~~&~~

The first video feed came in a little after nine the next morning. The closest mound was buried deep beneath London, way below the level of the Thames, and I had cameras at all the points of interest; up high, at street level, everywhere I could get them underground. F.R.I.D.A.Y was monitoring each feed.

“Boss, you might want to take a look at this.”

I’d been taking a last deep trawl through the coding before I started the first full suit cohesion tests. I was anxious to get it done. But anything F.R.I.D.A.Y thought deserved my attention was worth looking at.

“Send it to my screen.”

A video feed appeared replaced lines of code. A busy street. Tall, grey-white buildings. Black cabs. Harassed looking pedestrians. And Wanda Maximoff, sitting in café window, taking afternoon tea.

“What the…”

Wanda was _supposed_ to be in deep hiding. That didn’t mean she couldn’t be doing it right there in London, but it wasn’t exactly inconspicuous. Unless she was coming _out_ of hiding? Richard Montgomery and his Pure Human assholes had been the reason she and Vis had gone off the radar. But until we burned out every single diseased root of that tree, Pure Human were always going to be a threat. So why was she just sitting in a café? 

A café near a dragon burial mound…

Huh…

I thought about what Wanda could do. What H.Y.D.R.A. had done to her, the abilities she’d been given. Psionic… telekinesis… 

Mental abilities. The manipulation of energy. Or as some might say – magic. 

I flashed back to the de-brief session we’d had a week or so ago, after Alduin trashed the courthouse. When Fury had got so pissy about the presence of magic on the battlefield. Science _could_ explain magic, both Stephen and I were sure of that, but it wasn’t something your regular S.H.I.E.L.D scientist would have much experience with. 

Wanda wasn’t a scientist. She wasn’t exactly a sorcerer, but she had sorcerer-like abilities. I’d worried Fury was putting together his own magic department – maybe something to rival Kamar-Taj – and watching Wanda eat her pastry, I was pretty sure he was starting with her.

I could be wrong. I was just watching a single person in a café window. But it fit too well with the way Fury thought, the way he planned things. Had that been his goal since we first recruited her? Or had he been planning earlier than that, when Stephen first started making his presence felt? 

Fury played a mean long game. Either of those scenarios could be true.

I started thinking through the implications if Wanda _was_ Fury’s new rabbit-out-of-a-hat. It was a massive slap in the face for Stephen – he was the Sorcerer Supreme, the mystical leader of all sorcerers on Earth, and he saw his role as that of protector. I was totally into that. That was my role, too, except my bag was super-villains and aliens rather than demons and tentacle-monsters from another dimension. 

On the face of it, S.H.I.E.L.D was also about protection. But I knew all too well that their form of ‘protection’ came with a huge side-order of ‘exploitation’. That may not always have been the case, but Fury was the kind of director who saw the potential in all kinds of weapons, be they plastic, metal, or flesh. He was a user. He did it for the right reasons… but his methods still left people broken.

Hell. He took people who were already pretty broken, and broke them just a little bit more.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, get a drone on her. The tiniest one we’ve got. Keep your distance, be as discreet as you can, but I wanna know where she is at all times.”

“On it, boss.”

Right now, I was just speculating. Before I mentioned this to Stephen I needed answers. 

But before that? I had to finish this damned suit.

Who needed sleep, right?

~~&~~

I worked through the night – against F.R.I.D.A.Y’s furious protestations, and a threat to invoke the Strange Protocol – but I finally got the initial round of testing complete. 

Suiting up for the first time with the new design, it was… I liked to think I was too down to Earth to use words like ‘transcendental’, but that’s what it felt like. I tapped the ARC reactor and waited as silver-black nanites streamed from the housing and settled around my body. So far, so normal, but the sense of _Dovah_ that seemed to live behind my ribs responded to the nanites, making my whole body vibrate for a second. 

The design was like something out of an epic medieval-style video game. The cosmetic changes were comparatively small (cool dragon horns sweeping back from my forehead, bone-like pauldrons bulking out my shoulders, dragon-skull helmet) and I’d kept the usual hot-rod red and gold. But one unexpected interaction had dusted the colours a little, giving them an almost frosted look. It made the armour seem battle-worn. I liked that.

Now, the only tests I could run were of the live kind, and I figured a short hop across the pond would be an excellent way to do that.

“Sleep, boss.”

“What?”

“And eat. You know, those things you do to refuel your body…”

“You can be goddamned sarcastic sometimes, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

“I learned from the best.” She sounded smug.

“Course you did, honey. How can I say ‘no’ when you flatter me like that?”

So I made sandwiches, grabbed a coffee, and took a nap. When I woke it was almost noon, and I felt sluggish and thick-headed. Must have needed sleep more than I’d thought. I dragged myself off the sofa and into the shower, still feeling heavy-limbed and just kinda… _bleurgh._

“Behold the mighty superhero,” I grumbled as I stood under the hot spray. Man, that was good. “You hit forty and it’s all downhill from there. If I live long enough to reach fifty I’m gonna retire.”

“You shouldn’t tell fibs,” F.R.I.D.A.Y admonished, making me laugh.

“You’re right. I’m never hanging up the suit.” The thought was supposed to be reassuring, positive, another pithy ‘never-give-up’ kind of thing, but instead, it left me feeling… I don’t know… not exactly sad, but not exactly happy either. Just a ‘this-is-your-life-now’ feeling. Man, maybe I _should_ have got some proper sleep last night. Or, ya know, not pushed myself so hard.

Staring at the dark circles under my eyes, I laughed. I laughed until I felt like crying, then left the bathroom. I had a job to do.


	31. 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony decides to test his new bone-nanite armour with a long flight to London. Surprising Wanda, he learns that she’s heading up a new S.H.I.E.L.D department called H.E.X, specifically tasked with investigating and handling magical problems. Her current task is to observe the dragon burial mound.   
> He calls Stephen, leaving the two alone to discuss how Kamar-Taj could work with H.E.X, half-worried that it will devolve into a fight. As Stephen is telling Tony how the conversation progressed, Alduin arrives.

When I suited up I felt like some kind of ageing legend. Hell, I _was_ an ageing legend. Those dragon horns on my helmet… they were ostentatious, no way around it. No one could pretend they hadn’t seen me. That was part of the Iron Man persona, but it was also part of _my_ persona. 

I took a moment to adjust to the feel of the new suit, running on the spot, throwing a few jabs, making sure I was comfortable. The fit was even better than the previous model; it felt like a second skin, though whether that was advanced design – or the feeling of Dovah energy sitting inside my chest – I couldn’t say. Maybe it was both.

I leapt up, engaged the foot and hand repulsors, and arrowed into the sky. I hadn’t touched any of the speed programs for the new coding. There was no need – at a push, I could reach Mach 2.

I shot out across the landscape, gathering speed as I went. Faster than an aircraft. I quickly reached Mach 1. The suit easily compensated for the G forces.

“Is it me,” I said, settling into the flight, watching cities, lakes and forests zip past on my way to the East Coast and the longest part of the journey, “or does this flight feel… I don’t know, smoother?”

“You’re not imagining it.” F.R.I.D.A.Y sent lines of data scrolling over the HUD. “Dragon bones are lighter than vibranium, which makes them more aerodynamic. This suit is much lighter than any previous model.”

“ _Yee haw!_ ” I yelled, turning a quick, tight turn in the sky. The adrenaline rush was better than coffee, better than booze, better than se – 

Yeah, right. Nothing was better than sex. As the wide, deep blue of the Atlantic loomed on the horizon, I spent a low couple minutes wondering whether I’d ever get to that point with Stephen… or whether Alduin would just eat me first. 

~~&~~

Even at Mach 1, the journey still took a couple hours. I was bored by the time I buzzed over London. The suit had behaved exactly as it should, but combat would be the real test. Knowing I had to wait didn’t sit well. Knowing I probably wouldn’t have to wait _long_ sat even less well. The contradiction wasn’t lost on me.

“Gimme Wanda’s location,” I told F.R.I.D.A.Y, peering down at the London skyline. It was mid-evening now, dark, but the city glittered with a million multi-coloured lights. Beautiful.

“She’s back in the café.” 

“Almost as if she’s waiting for Alduin to arrive,” I growled. 

I activated the camo feature – a new piece of coding I’d added in one of the last upgrade cycles and never got around to testing – and landed in a narrow, cobbled alley. A quick tap deactivated the suit.

London was cold. I was glad I’d thought to wear a sweater. Hands in pockets, I walked out of the alley and down the street, moving quickly so people didn’t get a good look as I hurried past. The last thing I wanted was to be recognised before I’d done what I’d come here to do.

The twenty-four café was nice, homey without the Starbucks generic décor. Black and white checked floor, solid wooden chairs and tables. Couple of potted plants. Most of the other seats were taken. Business-types grabbing coffee with their buddies after the working day; tired moms trying to fit a little social time into their kids’ sleep schedules; even a people who’d clearly just come out of the gym. Buddy, half an hour on a treadmill doesn’t justify a doughnut. Even if those doughnuts did look goddamned great.

Wanda had taken the window seat again. This time she’d added a Danish and a steaming mug. Tea, judging by the tag hanging over the rim. She was staring out of the window, chin braced on one hand, a faraway look in her eyes. In a maroon leather jacket, black jeans and a loose white blouse, she looked slight and fragile; her skin was pale, almost translucent, the only colour around her cheeks. Her face was thinner. Her hair seemed like the strongest part of her – long and lustrous, almost shining, a deep red that blazed with energy.

Then her eyes met mine, and I realised she was infinitely stronger than she looked.

I fought my first, instinctive fear of her. What she’d done to me and the other Avengers – getting inside our heads, using our own worst fears against us – had ultimately been my fault. The Stark history I worked every day to put right. 

Even though my view on magic had completely changed, the ghosts of my fear still remained. Fear of Wanda, of not being in control of my own actions. I flashed back to the moment I’d absorbed Usreyth’s soul. To my meltdown in the shower.

To the moment I’d understood – on a deep, fundamental level – that magic was nothing more than energy.

As my fear receded, it was possible to see the things I’d missed during my first assessment. Like the way she’d hunched over her snack, posture defensive. The way her features tightened. The sudden streak of anxiety in her eyes.

If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was afraid of me. The irony was enough to make me nauseous.

I slid into the seat opposite.

“You’ve got cake,” I said, tapping the edge of her plate. “I like cake.”

She stared at me as if I’d grown horns. “You, uh… you’re here.” Her accent was thicker than I remembered. 

“Ten out of ten, give the kid a gold star for observation.”

“I’m twenty years old.” Irritation flitted across her face. 

“And I’m forty… something,” I said, coughing into my hand. “You live as long as me, everyone’s a kid.”

She gave me a wary look. “What do you want, Mr Stark?”

“I want to know if Fury’s yanking your chain.”

“I don’t understand.” But that wary look deepened. She might not understand the colloquialism, but I was pretty sure she understood the intent behind it.

“Right under that street,” I said, pointing at the window, “there’s a dragon burial mound.” Her face didn’t change, not even so much as a flicker. That was the only answer I needed. “Right in front of me,” and I pointed at her, “is a woman with psi abilities that look a lot like magic. And out there,” I finished by waving my finger over my head, “is the head of an organisation that doesn’t officially recognise magic, but still wants a piece of the pie. You understand me now?”

She sagged, pushing her plate away.

“Fury asked me to head up a new department. H.E.X.,” she explained, toying with the handle of her mug. The light, fragrant scent confirmed that it was tea. “He never once used the word ‘magic’, but it was clear what he wanted.”

“H.E.X?” I rolled my eyes. “Alright. Hit me. What does that mean?”

“Homeland Enforcement of Xenoergon.” Her eyes slid away. 

“Xenoergon? What even is that?”

“Literally? Alien energy.”

“God. Fury’s had months, years maybe to think of this, and that’s the best he can come up with?” I shook my head. We were getting off track. “So heading up H.E.X… you were happy to go along with that?” I pushed the plate back toward her. 

“I owe debts –”

“Oh, jeez. Is this gonna be another one of Nat’s ‘I’ve got red in my ledger’ type speeches?”

“You, of all people, should understand the power of debts.”

I flinched. Yeah. She got me there. I searched her face, looking for… what? I had no idea. Her eyes were wide and determined, lips thinned. She’d spent time thinking about this, and was convinced – absolutely convinced – that she was on the right path. It was hard, sometimes impossible, to shake faith like that.

“You don’t owe anyone anything,” I said, leaning over the table. She leaned back. I sat back again, giving her space. “What you did…” I sucked air through my teeth. “Wasn’t your fault.”

Was this the best I could do? The best motivational speech I could give? Glib, I could do; sarcasm, inappropriate humour, sure. But honesty – dragging out my own emotions, my own experiences, to help other people understand theirs… that was hard.

Her smile was bitter. “It means a lot to hear you say that, Mr Stark. But as much as I appreciate it, you’re wrong. We all have to be accountable for our actions. You’re trying to atone in your own way. This is mine.”

“Alright,” I said, sighing. “I get that. I really do. And I respect the hell out of you for that.” Her mouth opened, the only outward sign of surprise she allowed herself before she controlled her expression. “But you realise there’s gonna be consequences?”

“Doctor Strange.” She was scared – the way her eyes widened and stayed wide told me that – but she was trying to hide it.

“Yeah. See, this is kind of his bailiwick.” I waved at the window again. “And mine too. I have to tell him.”

“Are you going to try to stop me?” She sat up straight. I took careful note of the determination in her eyes. If I didn’t handle this right – if I didn’t handle this _carefully_ – it could go south real quick. I sweated and tried to find the right words.

“Depends what you’re trying to do here.”

“Observe. Protect. Gain knowledge. Those are the central goals of H.E.X.”

“You’re not, I don’t know, thinking of a magical way to sneak those dragon bones out before anyone realises what’s happening?”

“At the moment I’m here to observe.”

“Observe. Right.”

“I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true. Right now Mr Fury is more concerned that the bones aren’t taken by anyone like H.Y.D.R.A. or Pure Human.” Her mouth twisted in a sneer, there and then gone.

I rubbed my fingers over my forehead, trying to massage away the tension headache forming behind my eyes. The idea of terrorists getting hold of dragon bones was terrifying. All I’d made was a suit of armour, and that was _all_ I intended to make. Terrorists, H.Y.D.R.A, they wouldn’t hesitate to turn them into weapons. Montgomery, though… he was with Alduin now. No telling what _he_ would do.

I also fully believed that Fury would try the same thing, if – when – he got the bones. What a fucking mess.

~~&~~

I called Stephen. He arrived two minutes after I finished the call, stalking into the cafe with a dark scowl on his face. He’d gone incognito in Formal Wizard, the same sharp black suit he’d worn to the courthouse. The one that made him seem like a predator. Wanda must have thought so too, from the way she shrank in her seat. But she straightened – albeit slowly – and by the time he reached our table she looked calm and collected. My respect for her went up a notch.

But I also couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for her, even though I shouldn’t. She’d known this confrontation would happen at some point. She probably hadn’t expected it to happen so soon, but how she dealt with it now would define the already-strained relationship between S.H.I.E.L.D and Kamar-Taj.

“Doctor Strange.” Her tone was cool.

“Miss Maximoff.” Stephen took the seat beside mine.

“Play nice, guys,” I interjected. “We’re in public.”

They both hit me with identical annoyed looks. Wow. Glared at in stereo. Good to see I still had the power to piss off more than one person at once. 

“I’ll, uh, I’ll just step outside for a minute,” I said, suddenly feeling like a third wheel. Time to let the magic users talk.

It only hit me – as I left the table and headed for the door – that _I_ was a magic user, too.

~~&~~

I stood outside, leaning against the wall, trying not to put too much weight on my leg. I hadn’t needed the crutch for the last couple of days, but I’d worked too hard yesterday and was paying the price today. A tight, silvery ache ran up my leg, settled in my hip and nestled in the base of my spine. I started thinking dreamily about hot baths, massages, my bed… Stephen… I quickly cut that line of thought, aware I was in a public place and people were starting to look. The drawback of having a recognisable face.

Stephen came out of the café ten minutes later. He straightened his jacket with a single hard tug. His expression gave nothing away.

“Anyone ever mentioned how _great_ you look in a suit?” I asked.

His face broke into a startled smile, as I’d hoped. “No one ever has. Thank you.”

We started walking down the street, falling easily into step. I noticed that he slowed his pace so I didn’t have to increase mine. I appreciated the thoughtfulness.

“So,” I said. “No pitched battles, no screaming, no broken furniture. No crying. Wanda let you walk out.”

He smirked. “Cute that you think she’d send me home crying.” 

“So what _did_ happen? I expected you to be mad that Fury’s gone behind your back.”

“I’m not thrilled by what he’s done,” he remarked. “But I also believe the way we think about magic has to change. Kamar-Taj has collected knowledge for millennia, and has often been accused of hording by rogue sorcerers. I’m not so sure they were wrong.”

“So you’re considering H.E.X. as some sort of… what?” I gave him a sideways look. “An out-reach program?”

“In effect. If the Avengers can work together, I see no reason why I cannot work with Wanda.” Now it was his turn for a sideways look. “Unless you’d rather I didn’t.”

I stopped, taken aback, and stared up at him. He’d considered the way I might feel about her. 

I almost blurted out that I loved him. Right there, in the middle of the street. 

“She and I… well, I guess we’re OK,” I rasped. “I mean I was terrified of her. Not gonna lie. But this whole Dragonborn thing has made me think about a lot of things.” And he knew my feelings about pretty much all of those. My journey to a healthier perspective on magic. 

“It was brave of you to come here.” He was still looking at me carefully, as if I was an unexploded bomb that might suddenly go off. His tone could have been seen as patronising, but I didn’t believe that was his intention. 

“Bravery, insanity, it’s kind of the same thing,” I said with a shrug. “So how is this thing with H.E.X. gonna work?”

“It’s an on-going collaboration. If either of us discovers a mystical threat to Earth, we share information, pool resources, and work together until the threat is neutralised. Kamar-Taj is not the only home of sorcerers, and sorcerers are not the only type of magic user.”

“That sounds really… I don’t know… convenient?”

“Earth is not the only world. This is not the only dimension. Fury knows this, but he doesn’t care unless it has a direct impact on this planet.” He smirked. “His bailiwick is a single planet. Mine is the entire Multiverse.”

“So modest.”

He brushed his knuckles over his suit. “I can’t help being brilliant.”

“You’re really OK with Fury muscling in on your territory like this?”

“‘OK’ is stretching it a little,” he admitted, and for the first time I saw a crack in his calm façade. A hint of wariness in his eyes. “I have no jurisdiction over the people Fury hires. He’s good at spotting talent,” and now warmth returned to his eyes as he looked at me, there and then gone, “but not so good at managing his people.”

“Amen to that,” I muttered. The Avengers had power, but we were all broken in some way. “And I guess the same can be said for your sorcerer buddies.”

“Not true.” He didn’t take umbrage at my comment. “Those who are broken when they enter Kamar-Taj invariably leave it whole again.” He shrugged. “Or they don’t leave at all.”

“Huh.” It was something to think about, that was for sure. “You’ll be keeping an eye on H.E.X, right?”

“Of course.” His smile was thin-lipped and devoid of humour. More like the grin of a shark. Given that he was still wearing his killer black suit, I was fighting the desire to shove him against the wall and kiss him senseless. “I’ve no doubt S.H.I.E.L.D has allowed H.E.X all the resources it asked for – or will ask for – but it’s a young organisation. Kamar-Taj has centuries of experience. Anything they know, anything they learn, I’ll find out… sooner or later.” His voice deepened, taking on a hard edge. 

“You think they’ll be doing the same to you?”

“I think they’ll try –”

Thunder ripped across the sky. I looked up to see a huge violet-ringed portal open hundreds of feet above, gaping between glass and concrete towers. Alduin flew out of the midnight-black void, outlined in gold light so bright it burned in the night sky. Wings stretched wide. Neck extended as he roared.

“ _Dovahkiin,_ ” he growled, the sound echoing across the city. He looked down. It seemed as if his glowing red eyes met mine. Whether he saw me or not, he certainly sensed me.

“We have to stop him raising another dragon!” I said, slapping my ARC reactor and suiting up. People were pointing into the sky, screaming, starting to run. Cars had stopped in the street.

“You can’t bring him down here,” Stephen said urgently, grabbing my gauntleted arm. “Not in the middle of the city!”

“I’ll lead him away.”

Stephen’s hands moved in an arcane gesture. Business Wizard vanished; the suit shimmered and disappeared, replaced with his usual outfit. The Cloak of Levitation rippled out behind him.

“Stark! Strange!” 

I turned. Wanda was running toward us, crimson energy balling around her fists. 

“Can you fly?” I asked her.

She nodded. 

“Good. We’ve gotta get him out of the city. Primary goal is to stop him raising another dragon. We get him away, I’ll Shout, then we all pile in. ‘K?”

They nodded. I nodded in return, engaged the repulsors, and leaped into the air.


	32. 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen and Wanda help people on the street while Tony engages Alduin. But the dragon in the burial mound is already being raised, and Tony can’t stop that; Alduin gives him a choice – fight the risen dragon to protect London, or go after him. He chases Alduin, but the World-Eater escapes, leaving him to bring down Naakbodur.   
> After the fight, Fury blames Tony for not being able to stop Alduin from raising another dragon, or from letting him escape. During the argument, it’s revealed that leaving the bones in the ground was a ploy to draw Montgomery out of hiding.  
> Wanda suggests a new plan – that by tuning in to the energy of a Dovah, they can track Alduin or Montgomery and put them down for good. Fury sends Wanda back to S.H.I.E.L.D to work on the tech angle, while he advises Tony and Stephen to get some rest.

The HUD told me Stephen was on my four and Wanda was on my eight. I recalled the damage done to Salamanca, the complete destruction of a town, and tried not to picture it here. If Alduin raised that dragon the death toll would be out of sight.

We arrowed upwards. Alduin turned to look at us. I didn’t think dragons couldn’t grin, but the way his face twisted… 

I piled more power into the repulsors, closing fast.

“Energy levels are rising in the burial mound!” F.R.I.D.A.Y’s urgent voice broke through my concentration. A pillar of azure-blue light erupted from the roof of a glass-sided high rise.

“Honey, hack into that building’s security system, get the fire alarm going?” If I couldn’t reach that bastard in time, we had to get as many people out as we could. “And liaise with local law enforcement, get a perimeter set up here!”

“On it, boss!”

Alduin opened his mouth. I sent out a stream of missiles, each one streaking through the air; he banked and rolled to one side, dodging them with ease.

“Civilians are evacuating!”

I was a hundred feet away and closing when Alduin Shouted.

“ _Slen-Tiid-Vok!_ ”

The building swayed. Rippled. Chunks of masonry came loose and glass panes broke away. The building leaned to one side.

“ _No!_ ” I yelled, but it was already too late. I slammed into Alduin’s massive body. I felt the hard scrape of claws on the back of my suit, the noise setting my teeth on edge. 

I shot up higher, between his legs, grabbing the edge of one of his wings. It was enough to drag him off balance.

“ _Fus-Ro-Dah!_ ” His Shout pushed me away. The suit absorbed the force, cushioned it, and the repulsors stopped my wild downward tumble. 

“Not getting knocked through a wall this time, motherfucker!” I grunted, shooting up again.

“You are too late, _Dovahkiin!_ ” Alduin’s voice vibrated through my bones. “You can fight me, or you can fight Naakbodur, but you cannot do both!”

“That’s why I’ve got friends, asshole.” It was too late to get him out of the city, but I _had_ to bring him down. We weren’t too far from the Thames – maybe I could make him ditch in the river? 

I closed my eyes for a second, remembering the feeling of energy flowing through my system, of gathering that energy together and throwing it out in a Shout of my own.

“ _Joor-Zah-Frul._ ” The words were softly spoken. I didn’t need to bellow. It didn’t feel like a Shout, but it was; the power I pushed through my voice left on a ripple, curling out of me in waves of soft blue light, but it hit Alduin with the force of a truck.

He reeled, wings flapping frantically as he tried to regain flight stability. The azure power of the Shout was forcing him down. He fought it, but it was inexorable – down he went, zig-zagging all the way. Nowhere near the fucking Thames, shit.

Alduin landed hard, crushing cars, trucks and a bus under his massive body as he skidded along a road. He roared and slammed into a row of buildings. 

“Tony, the other dragon –” Stephen’s urgent voice sounded in my ear, abruptly cut off.

“Can you keep him busy?”

No reply.

“Stephen?”

No reply.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, find Stephen!” I looked myself, driving higher into the air, looking out over the panicked and partially broken city below. The tower directly over the dragon mound was collapsing, the slow fall of masonry and glass billowing out into clouds of debris. Had everybody got out? Was the area clear? 

A huge, skeletal form clawed its way out of the cloud, crawling away from the collapsed building. As I watched – terrified, awestruck – layers of flesh, muscle and scales began to form on the framework, surrounded by the glowing golden energy of a Dovah. _Naakbodur._ The energy called to me. It was impossible to wrench my eyes away. As I watched, the dragon leapt into the sky, bone-white hide impossibly bright against the dark night.

Alduin’s low chuckle filled my ears and my mind.

“Until next time, _Dovahkiin._ ”

Alduin was rising, massive wings flapping as he gained height. I couldn’t let him get away. But at the same time I had to stop this Naakbodur, find Stephen, and where the _fuck_ was Wanda?

A hard knot of panic formed in my stomach. It exploded out to fill every part of my body, making me feel like a lead balloon –

_No._ I couldn’t afford to panic right now. _Keep your shit together, Stark!_

Alduin was still climbing, heading for his portal. I zoomed after him, directing dangerous levels of power to the repulsors, knowing I was going to be too late. 

I fired another round of missiles. The asshole just rolled out of the way.

He vanished through the portal. 

It closed behind him. 

I was too late.

I almost hyperventilated under the crushing weight of failure. Not only had I let Alduin get away, I’d failed to stop him raising another fucking dragon, a dragon which even now was flapping his wings, extending his neck, and bellowing defiance.

“Stephen has been knocked unconscious,” F.R.I.D.A.Y supplied. “I’ve located him above ground level. The Cloak of Levitation removed him from direct harm.”

“Thank fuck for that,” I grunted, arrowing back down toward Naakbodur. “Where’s Wanda?”

“Manipulating debris to get civilians to safety.”

Stephen was down. Wanda was busy. Whatever happened next, it was down to me. I’d failed with Alduin. I could not – could _not¬_ – fail here.

Naakbodur saw me and roared, spitting fire in a gout. I gritted my teeth and increased my speed, deliberately flying into the stream. Only way to really test the upgrades. I burst through the flames, sweating, praying to a God I didn’t believe in.

Data scrolled up the HUD. No time to analyse it. I wasn’t on fire, F.R.I.D.A.Y wasn’t yelling at me, I was just gonna call it good and move on. The mess of guilt inside my head, well, that was gonna have to wait, too.

I slammed into Naakbodur neck, forward momentum rolling me over onto his back. I grabbed his spines, leaning to one side as the massive head swung round to take a bite at me.

“ _Joor-Zah-Frul,_ you son of a bitch,” I growled. Vivid blue energy streamed out of me in a punch. No recharge time, that was _good_ to know. The dragon screamed and dropped, his wings collapsing, ripped upwards by the force of his uncontrolled descent. I let go and followed him down, barrel-rolling to one side as he tried to flame me again.

He slammed into the road. The impact crushed a whole line of parked cars. I didn’t give him a moment to recover: - remembering Gormlaith, remembering how goddamned easy she’d made dragon-killing look (four in one day? Over-achiever), I called up the nanite blade.

The programming for my new sword was definitely influenced by Gormlaith’s weapon. Previously a katana, it was now longer and heavier, gold nanites blazing like the sun when the handle materialised in my open hand. Made for killing dragons. 

I pulled the sword back behind my shoulder, changed the angle of my descent, and drove it through Naakbodur’s neck.

The blade sliced through his flesh. Blood erupted from the wound, shocking crimson against the white of his scales, quickly splattering my suit. He tried to scream. All that came out was a choked gurgle.

I hauled the broadsword free. With one last over-head blow, aiming for the gaping wound I’d already created, I hacked down as hard as I could.

Naakbodur trembled, his legs, wings and tail twitching. Blood gushed out of his mouth. As I pulled the sword free, he let out another gurgle and lay still.

I wasn’t sure he was dead – not a hundred cent sure – until white-gold flames began to consume the body. The knot of energy inside my chest responded, drawing me closer; his flesh burned, incinerated by the heat. Energy streamed toward me. Enveloped me. This time, I welcomed it.

The rush was… it was _insane._ If I’d thought I’d felt powerful before, it had nothing on this; in those few moments, I truly believed I could take on the Multiverse and win. Power crackled along my suit and sparked between my fingertips. 

I threw my head back and yelled in defiance. Alduin had gained a victory, but I wouldn’t let him win again. 

The next time we met would be the last. 

~~&~~

The rush from absorbing Naakbodur’s soul had been intense. The come-down – the realisation of what we’d lost – was even more so.

When I found Stephen, he was conscious, though he had a lump on the side of his forehead when I arrived.

“You alright?” I asked, already knowing how he would answer.

“Fine.” He was feeling the bump with gentle fingers. Wincing. “Where’s Wanda?”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y said she was clearing debris. Which is what I’m about to do.” I flexed my hands within the gauntlets, looking at the ground. “I fucked this up. I can’t put it right, but I can help the survivors.”

~~&~~

It was hours before we could leave. Local law enforcement had reached the scene before the fight was even over, soon joined by what I assumed was Britain’s equivalent to S.H.I.E.L.D. I wasn’t surprised. In the diplomatic squabble over who got to keep the bones, all the players would want a presence on the board. We talked to people. Names and faces came and went. 

We did what we could to find survivors. I combined the suit’s heat-seeking capabilities with Stephen’s and Wanda’s telekinetic abilities, then passed off everybody we could find to the EMTs. 

Eventually, a black-suited agent (who reminded me painfully of Phil Coulson) ushered us into the back of a Quinjet. Fury was waiting for us. The Coulson-lookalike ducked out.

“What,” Fury said, slamming his way into the room, “and I can _not_ stress this enough, the _fuck_ was that out there tonight?”

“My fault,” I said. Neither Stephen nor I answered to S.H.I.E.L.D, but I was damned well going to take the responsibility for this. Wanda – who _did_ answer to Fury – had done nothing wrong.

“Damned right it’s your fault!” His face was twisted with anger, single eye glaring. “You had _one_ job between you, one fucking job!”

“How dare you.” Stephen’s voice was a cold wall. “We risked our lives today. In fact we risk our lives _every_ day. Where were you? Where was S.H.I.E.L.D?”

“S.H.I.E.L.D was right fucking here!” He jabbed a hand at Wanda. She looked pale and drawn. Exhaustion, I thought, rather than fear of Fury. “What was H.E.X. doing, Miss Maximoff?”

“Exactly what you told me to do.” Her voice was as cold as Stephen’s. “Observe. What you didn’t ask me to do was protect civilians, but I did that, too.”

In that moment I was fiercely proud of her. This kid – this young woman – had been used as a pawn in too many people’s games. But she’d just reached the other side of the board and was well on her way to turning into a queen. 

Fury threw his hands in the air. “Stark! Are we the only people who see the bigger picture here? You’ve got the tools to stop Alduin.” He didn’t say ‘Dragonrend’, didn’t acknowledge that Shouts were magical abilities. I hated him just a bit more for that. “But you didn’t stop him. He got away. Not only did he get away, but he raised another fucking zombie!”

I was so done taking the blame for this. I was responsible, but I wasn’t the only one. 

“You’re right,” I growled. “I shoulda stopped Alduin, I didn’t, that’s on me. What is _not_ on me is the fact that those bones were still in the ground in the first place. You’ve had a week – a whole fucking week! – to get them _out_ of the ground. What the fuck is wrong with you? S.H.I.E.L.D doesn’t bother with jurisdictional bullshit! You want something, you just rush right in and take it!”

“I told you, the bones were in a difficult –”

“Cut the bullshit. I’ve had to listen to enough of your fucking motivational speeches to know you don’t even believe in words like ‘difficult’. If you’d wanted those bones outta the ground, you would have just taken them. Put them in a vault in the middle of the fucking desert. So why didn’t you?”

“It’s not that simple –”

“People died today.” Stephen’s quiet voice trampled all over our anger. “People who would still be alive if those bones had been removed. So tell us again it’s not that simple.”

“This was all a show, wasn’t it?”

We all turned to stare at Wanda. Her eyes were flashing. I stared at her, puzzled.

“Be careful what you say next, Miss Maximoff,” Fury snapped.

“Something big. Something flashy. The legendary Iron Man wearing his new suit. He’s got the soul of a dragon inside him. Is he human? Is he something else? No one knows.”

I drew a sharp breath. I’d had those same thoughts. 

“ _Miss Maximoff –_ ”

“You used him as bait for Richard Montgomery.”

Her words rang in the sudden silence of the Quinjet.

“Tell me she’s wrong,” I said. “Tell me you didn’t deliberately hang my ass on the line to catch that prick.”

Fury let out a long, slow breath… and said nothing.

“ _Son_ of a…” I wheeled away. “Was he here? Did you see him? Did you catch him?” I stalked back, jabbing an angry hand at him. “Was it worth it, all those deaths?”

“He _was_ here,” Fury admitted. “We didn’t catch him. He’s… dammit, he’s changed, Stark.”

I didn’t doubt that. It had been a couple days since Alduin snatched him out of his retreat in Paraguay. God only knew what had been done to him in that time, how he’d been indoctrinated. Turned into a Dragon Priest bitch. 

The Coulson-clone jogged back up the ramp and into the Quinjet. “Director, there’s a transmission you need to see.”

“Not now!”

“It’s Montgomery, sir.”

I closed my eyes. Clenched my fists.

I felt a touch on my elbow. When I opened my eyes, Stephen was looking at me, fingers still on my arm. I tried to smile. Drew strength from the brief contact.

“Bring it up on the screen,” Fury said.

The agent tapped a tablet. One of the Quinjet’s screens lit up. Fury flicked through the channels, but each one was the same. Richard Montgomery. He looked…

“What the fuck’s happened to him?” I murmured.

His skin was grey. His eyes burned with purple-green energy, no hint of pupil or iris remaining. The orange prison outfit was gone, but rather than find a suit he’d wrapped himself in a black robe. He carried a staff as tall as him, a gnarled length of wood that split at the top and seemed to have grown over a chunk of blue crystal the size of my fist. More purple-green light crackled up and down the shaft.

“…worship them,” Montgomery was saying now. “Alduin is a god. Usreyth was a god. Naakbodur. Still in their long slumber: - bronze Ondusaav, copper Keldezrii, and the white-scaled wraiths Jutkiimgro and Dunvithond. All are gods.” The last four names must belong to the other dragons. “What happened today was an affront. The so-called Iron Man, high-and-mighty, lording it in the Avengers’ Compound. Who is he? Is he a man? No!” Montgomery shook the staff. “He was born different. He was born part-alien. Are you going to tolerate his presence?”

“Turn it off,” I said, reeling away from the screen. Nausea rippled back and forth in my stomach. “Turn it off!”

Blessed silence filled the Quinjet. I couldn’t look at the others.

“He’s wrong, Stark.”

Of all the people I expected to speak right now, Fury was not one of them. 

“Is he, though?” I made myself turn back around. Everyone was looking at me.

“No one who isn’t as human as you can be this much of a pain in my ass,” he growled.

That made me laugh, diffusing some of the tension. I hadn’t expected him to come to my defence.

“Wish he hadn’t picked Montgomery as his poster boy.” It was the ultimate irony – Richard Montgomery, the leader of a violently pro-human group, had fallen under the sway of a monster.

“Alduin chose someone with influence and power.” Wanda’s voice was thoughtful. “If you weren’t Dragonborn, he probably would have chosen you. Or perhaps Mr Fury.”

“Thank you for that happy little thought.”

“Let S.H.I.E.L.D deal with Montgomery,” Fury grunted. “Now he’s poked his head over the parapet, we’ll find him. Cults make noise.”

“How the fuck do you _protect_ yourself against that?” I asked, more to myself than anyone else… but I found I was looking at Wanda. My gaze lingered and wouldn’t move on.

“Your will has to be stronger than whoever is trying to possess you,” she said.

I was finally able to wrench my gaze away. That wasn’t what I’d wanted to hear. That I was _weak…_ that she’d been able to work her mental manipulation on me because my will was _fragile._ But I appreciated her candour. 

“Let me tell you something,” she said into the charged silence. No one else seemed to want to speak, as if by stepping in they would be interrupting something that needed to happen. Stephen, particularly, couldn’t quite hide his distress. “When I got inside your mind, when I got inside the other Avengers’ minds, it was easy.” At my startled look, she held up a hand to forestall whatever comment I’d been about to make. Didn’t even matter that I couldn’t find my voice right now – she didn’t know that. “You were all… disjointed. Disconnected from yourselves and each other. There were so many places I could slip inside. But now that’s changed.”

I finally managed to find my voice. “What do you mean, changed?” 

I wasn’t going to argue with her about being disjointed. Every single member of the Avengers team was broken in some way. No wonder we’d been so easy to manipulate.

“You’re strong now. Stronger than you’ve ever been before.” She lifted a hand and gestured to me, then surprised me with a small, sweet smile. “You feel connected.” 

My jaw dropped. Floundering, I tried to find something to say, and failed.

“Part of that is down to the Dragonborn gene being activated,” she said, taking pity on my speechlessness. “It was a part of you that had never been seen, never acknowledged. Never given space to _be._ The rest of it…” That sweet smile returned, and when she looked at me her eyes were sparkling. “Well, I think you know.”

“Yeah,” I croaked. Finally I could speak. I didn’t look at Stephen. Didn’t dare, because I knew Fury was taking all this in. “Yeah, I think I know.” It was my turn to smile.

“Well, this is all very nice,” Fury grumbled. “But it doesn’t help us protect people against being brainwashed.”

“The short answer is, you can’t,” Wanda said, turning back to Fury. Her smile vanished, tension and wariness once more tightening her face. “Unless they’re strong enough, Alduin will suck them into his cult. The long answer is that you need to get rid of Alduin.”

“Can’t stop him if I can’t find him,” I said. That was supposed to be part of today’s great and wonderful plan – get his attention, fight him, save the day. Only it hadn’t happened that way.

“There may be a way,” Wanda said, her tone thoughtful again. “The energy surrounding Montgomery. It’s linked to Alduin…?”

Wanda and Stephen stared at each other, clearly sharing the same realisation. In that moment I felt shut out, excluded from the conversation, from their understanding of Wanda’s train of thought. I hated that. Stephen’s magic was different to Wanda’s, which was different again from mine, but all three of us had the capability to manipulate energy. 

_Wouldn’t they make a great couple?_

The thought shocked the hell out of me. A massive, roaring denial boiled up inside me. Possessiveness, desire, love – he was _mine,_ goddammit! The idea that I could lose him in combat was nothing new. The idea that I could lose him to someone else? It had never even crossed my fucking mind.

“Would the special kids mind sharing with the rest of the class?” Fury drawled. 

“Some of us are feeling kind of left out here,” I added.

Stephen’s eyes flicked to me, widening for a second before he controlled his response. He cleared his throat.

“Montgomery is wielding a staff,” he said. “Staffs are conduits for power. It’s his link to Alduin.”

“OK…” I glanced at Fury, who glanced right back. In this, we were both students.

“I think we can tune into that energy,” Wanda continued. Stephen was nodding. “And I think we can track it.”

“Wait, what? You’re saying we can find Montgomery?” Excitement shot through my system. 

“And through him, Alduin,” Stephen finished. 

I grinned. “Then what are we waiting for?”

~~&~~

Turned out the ‘what are we waiting for’ was ‘tech to catch up’. 

“Leave this to us,” Fury said. He seemed to have calmed down, his rage just a memory. The guy was exhausting to be around. “Wanda, I want you to work with Fitzsimmons. They’ll handle the tech, you’ll handle the…” He gestured to her.

“Magic, Mr Fury.” She leaned forward. “You can say the word.”

The kid had balls. I liked that. 

“I might be stating the obvious here,” I said, “but you’ve already got two people who could be working on this.”

“What I see is two people who need rest.” Fury’s low growl brooked no argument. Hell, I’d argue with him just for the fun of it. “What I see is two people who’ve been working this thing for – what, ten days now? – without a proper break.” His voice softened, surprising me and, I thought, everyone else in the Quinjet. “Go home. Rest. Get your dragon head back in the game so that when we find Alduin you can put him down for good.”

“And the remaining burial mounds?” I demanded.

Fury ducked his head. “I made a mistake with that,” he admitted. My eyes widened. “We didn’t get Montgomery, and a lot of people got killed. That won’t happen again.”

“That was the lamest apology I ever heard.”

“I’m not in the business of making apologies. I’m in the business of getting shit done. Now _I’m_ gonna get those bones removed, put in the ass-end of nowhere, while H.E.X works the Montgomery angle. Go home, Stark.”


	33. 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at the Avengers’ Compound, Tony and Stephen unwind: - Stephen encourages Tony to talk over how he feels about Wanda and the current situation. Tony eventually feels comfortable enough to reveal that he loves him. Stephen – shocked, disbelieving at first – admits that he loves him, too.

Stephen opened a portal directly back to the kitchen in the Avengers’ Compound. With a single ironic salute to Fury, I walked through, Stephen following behind. A shower of sparks and the portal was gone.

“Well, that was one massive clusterfuck,” I said. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, what’s the time? Are we eating lunch, dinner, breakfast or what?” It was dark outside, so I guess that narrowed it down a little.

“Late, boss. Almost eighteen hundred hours.”

Ah, the joys of Mach-speed flight piled on top of a fight and a tongue-lashing from Fury. Iron Man knew how to live, alright. The aches I’d ignored from my nap earlier were coming back with a side order of headache. One (small) consolation – no injuries this time. Walking away from a fight without so much as a bruise was new. Didn’t feel right. And how fucked up was that?

_You didn’t get injured because you didn’t do what you were supposed to do,_ my conscious threw up. _Didn’t stop Alduin. Didn’t stop Naakbodur rising._

_Didn’t stop people getting killed._

“What d’ya say, Strange?” I asked Stephen, trying to drown out the sound of my own mind. “Stay for a take-out?” I almost added ‘Please’. There were so many thoughts jumbling through my head. I didn’t want to be alone right now. 

“Of course.” The Cloak flipped away from his shoulders, rippling through the air to hover by the fridge. It wrapped a bottom corner around the handle and pulled it open, miming reaching inside. 

“Stop that, you.” Stephen pointed to one of the dining chairs. “Sit down and behave. Don’t make him revoke my refrigerator privileges.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I patted him on the shoulder as I headed toward the long table, but he caught my wrist lightly between his fingers. I stopped. But I couldn’t look at him.

“Talk to me, Tony.”

I drew a long, slow breath, then finally looked at his face. His grey eyes were warm with concern.

“I will,” I said. “Promise. Just…” I cleared my throat. “Can we eat first? I need…” God only knew what I needed. A little more time to sort out the mess in my head. 

Like, forever.

~~&~~

I wanted meat. Cheese. A questionable fat content. We ordered burgers and fries with a couple of milkshakes. 

In the time it took me to collect the food from the guy at the front door, Stephen had opened a portal and changed clothes. When I came back into the room, clutching a couple of bulging, grease-spotted brown paper bags, he was wearing black denim jeans and a loose black sweater. 

“Whoah, that’s not just Casual Wizard,” I exclaimed, trying not to let on how fucking good he looked in jeans, “that’s, like, Dress-Down Wizard.”

“Casual Wizard?” He took the bags from my unresisting hands and put them on the table. “You have names for my outfits?”

“Uh…” Realising I’d been caught out, I decided to just run with it. “Yeah. You put on a suit, it’s Formal. All those different tunics? Casual. But this,” I said, gesturing to him, briefly catching my fingers in the bottom of his sweater, “This makes you look like an ordinary guy.” It was soft enough that I wanted to keep touching it. 

“Ordinary guy.” He reached out, hands closing around my elbows. His touch sent warm shivers through my body. I wanted to melt against him. “I don’t think I’ve ever been described as ‘ordinary’.”

“It’s not a bad thing.” My voice was rough and scratchy. Shocked, I felt the sting of tears in my eyes, and looked down. Today’s fuck-up was really messing with my head. “It just makes you more approachable. Like… I could curl up with you in front of a fire, kind of thing.” OK, now I _really_ wanted to curl up with him in front of a fire.

He kissed the top of my head, hands sliding up my arms to rest on my shoulders. It was comforting rather than erotic and right now, exactly what I needed.

“Then I’ll have to wear jeans more often,” he murmured, steering me gently toward the table. “Come on. Let’s eat.”

It was perfect. We sat at the table, eating in companionable silence. The Cloak was sulking in the corner of the room. I’d found its earlier pantomime cute; I kind of thought it’d wanted Stephen to cook for me. I had, too. I wanted that feeling of domesticity we’d had before, that we were a real couple and that this was our home. 

Hang on. Hang _on._ We _were_ a real couple. Why the _fuck_ did I have to remind myself of that? Because we’d had so little time to reflect on what it actually meant to be ‘us’, that was why. Alduin’s black wings had spread wide over our relationship.

On the other hand, without the driving force of confidence I’d gained from absorbing Usreyth’s soul, I’d never have worked up enough courage to kiss Stephen in the first place.

“Lot of people died today,” I said, looking at the last few fries left in the box.

“Lot of people lived. If you hadn’t been there, nobody would have got out of that tower in time.”

I crushed a fry into some leftover ketchup. “I should have stopped Alduin from raising...” I fumbled back through my memory for his name. “Naakbodur. He was _right there,_ and I didn’t.”

“Couldn’t,” Stephen corrected. “You physically couldn’t get to him in time. Alduin was out of range of your Shouts.”

“Then I should have shot a fucking missile up his ass!” I was working myself up again, could feel it happening, but I couldn’t stop it. “I didn’t even _think_ of that, I was just trying to get close enough to –”

“Stop.” Stephen dropped his burger and closed his hand around my arm. Immediately I felt the hectic self-hatred start to trickle away. “He was still far enough away that he could have avoided whatever you shot at him. In the situation, there was no way you could stop him.”

Logically, I understood his words. They made perfect sense. Emotionally? Not so much. Even though I accepted what he was saying, I still felt like a failure. People still died.

I had to let this go. I _had_ to, or I’d be good for nothing during the next fight.

“No one ever prepares you for this kind of shit,” I said, shoving the mushed up fry into my mouth and swallowing. My fries were almost gone so I reached for Stephen’s. He pushed them toward me without comment. I loved him even harder for that. “When I built the first Iron Man suit – with all that hot-rod red and gold, not the one that got me away from the Ten Rings – I was so fucking arrogant. So full of myself. I thought I could just march into every fight, strut around, and pretend to be a hero.” I sighed. “I had no idea what it actually _meant_ to be a hero.”

“No-one ever does.” His tone was low. Introspective. I guessed he was having his own look back through time. “That’s part of our journey.”

“You know, Fury should just build a hero school or something. Teach kids you can’t save the day without losing a few of them, too.” I hadn’t wanted our conversation to get so maudlin. Lot of things I hadn’t wanted. 

“I think that’s the hardest lesson to learn,” Stephen said. 

I looked at him, considering, thinking about his past. Wondering if I was about to cross a line with my next comment. “You were a surgeon...”

He sighed, but I had the sense it wasn’t directed at me. He wasn’t angry at the question. 

“I see where you’re going with this. Yes, I operated on people, and yes, sometimes they died. I never… uh…” He cleared his throat. “I treated people as an abstract. As a concept. Remember I told you I was in a relationship?” I nodded. “It’s one of the reasons Christine ended things between us. She was a tick in the box, a milestone, a new concept to explore.”

Wow. That was cold. But I knew the way he’d behaved then was not the way he behaved now, just as I was no longer the arrogant tycoon I’d once been. Which, the more I thought about it, was the point Stephen had been pushing me toward.

“Your accident changed you in more ways than one,” I hazarded.

“It changed me in virtually every way. It taught me to value and appreciate life. To look at the world in a different way… and to open my eyes.”

“And that’s what we do,” I murmured. “We see the world with our eyes open.”

~~&~~

I cleared the remnants of our meal away, balling everything into the paper bags and dumping them in the trash.

“Coffee?” I asked, looking for any reason to keep him here with me. “Tea? Beer or… soft drink or...?” He probably had all kinds of crazy wizard shit to deal with back at Kamar-Taj or the Sanctum, but I just wanted him here. It was selfish. I didn’t care. I was still feeling fragile, and I needed him.

“Tea would be nice.”

I waved him over to one of the sofas in the open-plan lounge area, then took the time to make proper tea – a pot, bone-china cups, the posh loose-leaf tea I kept just for him. He’d had it a couple times now and seemed to like it. I brought a tray over, setting it on the coffee table and dropping unceremoniously next to him on a sofa.

“I’m so goddamned tired,” I said, massaging my temples.

“Put your feet up.”

“Ugh, the table’s too far away –”

“I meant on my lap, idiot.”

I wasn’t about to turn down an offer like that. Sinking lower into the seat, I swung my legs up, letting them settle across Stephen’s long thighs. He started massaging my feet, working his fingers into my arches.

“Oh, God,” I groaned, closing my eyes. “That’s good. I mean it’s not just good, it’s great, it’s _awesome –_ ”

“Tony.”

“Yeah?”

“Just enjoy it, OK?”

“Enjoying it right now,” I said, stifling another groan. “This is me, enjoying it… _oh…_ ”

All my fears drained away. All my insecurities. There was just the warmth of his thighs against my calves, his long, thin fingers moving over my feet, and the soft sofa under my back.

“I had a breakdown,” I said into the comfortable silence a few minutes later, keeping my eyes closed.

His hands stilled for a moment. Then they started moving again.

“Can you tell me about it?”

I felt I could tell him anything. “It was after the attack on the courthouse. When Alduin Shouted at me that first time. I guess ‘breakdown’ isn’t the right word,” I added, wondering if I was being too dramatic. “But I just… I got back here, hit the shower, and I…” _Come on, Tony, you can do this._ “I got in that shower and I cried. I cried until there was nothing left.”

His hands curled around my calves, slowly stroking back down onto my feet. He said nothing for a moment. Deciding what to say, maybe.

“I’m sorry you went through that,” he said.

Of all the things he could have said, that, I decided, was the best. He didn’t try to doc-splain it. Didn’t get into details about what I had or hadn’t experienced. He just accepted it, in that quiet way he had when weren’t getting up in each other’s faces, and offered his support. No judgement.

I loved him so hard it hurt.

I cleared my throat. “Thanks. Means a lot to hear you say that.” I cleared my throat again. I concentrated on his touch. His warmth. His presence.

“Can we talk about Wanda?” he asked a few minutes later. His voice was gentle and coaxing.

My relaxed mood evaporated. “Nothing to talk about.” Had I believed I could tell him anything? Seemed I had a limit, after all.

“The way you’re tensing up again tells me there is.”

“Well, you know.” Maybe I could deflect from the hard truth with a softer one. Easier if I kept my eyes closed, as they still were. “She got inside my head. Not gonna forget that, even though I’ve moved on.”

“It’s more than that.” His probing was gentle and felt utterly inexorable. If I really dug my heels in, if I refused to talk, would he give in? Would he drop it?

For today, maybe. But he was like me. If we wanted answers, we carried on – in one way or another – until we got the truth.

Easier just to give in now. Rip the Band-Aid off. Get it over with.

“I was jealous, alright?” I said, finally opening my eyes to look at him. My vision blurred for a couple of seconds, then cleared. His hands on my feet stilled. “She’s a witch, you’re a wizard. You looked… good together.” I groaned, then covered my face with my arm. “And when I say that out loud, it sounds so childish.”

“When you say ‘looked good together’…?” His tone was cautious.

“Like a _couple,_ alright?” I kept my arm over my face. I couldn’t look at him. I felt like an insecure idiot. Hell, I _was_ an insecure idiot.

His hands moved again on my feet, strong thumbs digging into tense spots I hadn’t even realised were there. My soft groan was stifled under my arm.

“I can tell you there’s nothing to worry about,” he said, still massaging away. “I can tell you I don’t see her that way. But I’m not sure you’d believe it, so I think I have to show you.”

That made me move my arm. “Huh?”

“She’s not my type.” There was warmth in his eyes. I wanted to sink into that warmth and lose myself forever. “Because my type is right here, with his feet in my lap, staring at me like he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying.”

“I _want_ to believe you…” There were other men and women at Kamar-Taj, other sorcerers. I hadn’t felt this stupid jealousy over any of them. But that was because Stephen was the Sorcerer Supreme. He was their leader. Wanda? A colleague. An equal. A… rival…? “Forget it,” I groaned. “I’m so fucking stupid –”

With one swift movement, Stephen had stretched out and was leaning over me, his hand framing my face. My fingers fisted in his sweater. I stared up at him.

“You are _not_ stupid,” he growled. “You’re frightened. I understand that, believe me, because I feel the same way. Part of me is still terrified you’ll come to your senses and go off with the next hot blonde –”

“Never gonna happen,” I said, pressing my finger to his lips. 

Understanding that he felt just as insecure as I did was… it was seismic, it shook me to the core. We were both excellent at giving face, at putting out a front for the world to see, but beneath that? We were both scared. The realisation gave me strength. 

It was time to admit how I felt about him.

“You seem very sure,” he mumbled around my finger. His lips tickled.

“There’s a reason for that.” The heat of his body was seeping into mine. Who knew simple body heat could be so comforting? 

“And what’s that reason?”

I moved my finger from his mouth. Curled my hand around the back of his neck. 

“Because I love you.”

He sat up, pulling away. Pulling back. He looked stunned. Eyes wide open. Lips parted. I don’t know what kind of response I’d expected, but it wasn’t this. Pain lanced through my chest.

“I… don’t believe you,” he rasped, dragging his hand over his face. Oh, hell... in trying to make things right, I’d fucked them up even more. I wasn’t just an idiot, I was a fool.

But if this was the hill I died on, I was damned well gonna make it the best last stand I could.

“Believe it,” I said, curling my legs up under me so I could sit up. So I could follow him. The new position put pressure on my partly-healed leg, but I ignored it. “Just a couple days ago I stood in my blown-up lab and worried that we were moving too fast. We’ve only had like one official date, we haven’t even –” I was going to say ‘slept together’, but stopped myself. This was about so much more than sex. “But none of that matters because this all started two years ago. _We_ started two years ago.”

There were patches of pink on his cheeks. I’d pole-axed him. He said nothing, just stared at me with those wide grey eyes.

“You’re my best friend,” I continued. I was gonna lay it all out the best I could. “And by that I mean you’re the kind of friend who doesn’t let me get too far up my own ass. You don’t let me sink into my own fucking drama. You understand what it’s like to live as I do, to do the things I do, because you’re living that life yourself. Pepper… well, she tried. She had some idea. But not like you –”

He surged forward, grabbed my face, and kissed me.

It was intense. His tongue pushed into my mouth, seeking out my own tongue, flicking over my teeth. 

I leaned into him, breathing in his scent. Holding onto him. If I could keep him here, my arms around him, his lips working over my own, we could shut out the rest of the world.

“Every time I think I know who you are,” he said eventually, resting his forehead on mine, breathing hard, “you go and surprise me.”

“In a good way?”

“God, yes.” His laugh was shaky, and it made me hold him tighter. He buried his face against my shoulder. We crouched that way for a few minutes, holding each other, saying nothing.

“So, uh…” I shifted position, sliding back down to sit, putting my feet on the floor. The discomfort in my leg eased. “What happens next?”

“This is the part where I tell you I love you too, you goddamned idiot.”

Now it was my turn to be pole-axed. He was smiling. Emotion shone from his eyes, lifted his whole face. He sat and faced me, cross-legged on the sofa, bony knees sticking out. 

“You mean that?” I asked quietly. “You’re not just saying that because you think it’s what I want to hear?”

“I’m saying that because it’s true.” He wasn’t just pink now, he was red. I think talking about our feelings was one of the hardest things we’d ever have to do. “You had the balls to admit how you felt. Anything you can do…”

That made me laugh, and I swayed close enough to drop a quick kiss on his lips. He kidnapped it straight away, wrapping his arms around my torso, deepening the kiss until I was out of breath and had to pull back. But he wouldn’t let me, chasing my mouth, only letting me snatch down a few quick breaths. I was dizzy in moments.

“I can’t think when you do that,” I gasped, enjoying the way his teeth grazed over my chin and throat. He unfolded from his cross-legged position and cupped the back of my head, angling it for a deeper kiss. I sank back against the arm of the sofa.

“Thinking’s over-rated.” He tugged my hair. Just hard enough to sting. I got my legs up on the sofa and my arms around him, tugging him down so he was on top of me. He let out a startled noise and readjusted his weight so that he didn’t crush me. The feel of his body stretched out against mine was fucking perfect, especially as there was no way to hide the way his erection pressed against mine. 

Knowing that I made him feel this way… knowing that I turned him on like this… it was a powerful feeling. 

The slow friction of fabric against flesh was intense. I savoured the feeling, drawing it out. He was panting in my ear. It was damned near the most erotic thing I’d ever heard. 

“I want you,” he growled. “But this is crazy, we haven’t even discussed our preferences...”

I kissed the side of his neck, tracing the straining tendon with my tongue. I found it unexpectedly adorable that he’d said ‘preferences’, as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to say ‘how d’you wanna fuck’. Because my answer to that was simple – any damned way he wanted.

“I’m versatile,” I said, angling my hips to get that extra bit of friction between us, “and goddamned bossy about it.”

“That, I can believe,” he said, groaning softly. “I mean the bossy part, not the vers. Though I thought you’d want to top...?”

I stopped grinding against him for a moment, framing his face with both hands.

“I just want you,” I said. “Top, bottom, sideways, upside down, I don’t care. I just want you.”

His eyes seemed to glow with their own inner light. Right now, it was the most beautiful fucking thing I’d ever seen. His kiss this time was slow, searching. I put everything I felt into my response. I hoped it was enough.

“Come back with me,” he gasped. “I want...” He dipped his head, letting his forehead rest against my chest before looking up. “Whatever you’ll give me.”

“Kamar-Taj?” I remembered his single bed. We could make it work…

“No. The Sanctum.”

The Sanctum Santorum, his base in New York. His place. Kamar-Taj might have been the place where he’d trained, where he trained other sorcerers, but the Sanctum was his home. And he’d invited me in. 

“You got condoms? Lube?”

He laughed. “I don’t know. How about we pick some up on the way?”

“You say the most romantic things.”

“That's because I love you, douchebag.”

“Love you too, asshole.”


	34. 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen invites Tony to the Sanctum, but both are so tired they fall asleep.

Turned out he had lube. But he didn’t have condoms and neither, it seemed, did I. I hadn’t been with anyone since Pepper’s death, and I hadn’t been with a man for years prior to that. I swiped a strip out of Steve Rogers’ room. The Boy Scout was still single (as far as any of us were aware) but goddam if he wasn’t prepared for anything.

As I stepped through the portal and into the Sanctum Sanctorum, the nerves crept in.

“You wizards sure know how to live,” I said as we stood in the hallway. I took in the dark-stained wooden floor, the long, sweeping staircase, and the high ceiling. The huge round window high above. Whereas Kamar-Taj was a place of restful simplicity, of peaceful, down-to-Earth decor, the Sanctum was not. It was grand and it knew it. 

Stephen’s hand caught mine and tugged me toward the staircase. My anxiety rose with every step. By the time we reached the top, I was one bag of anxious, knotty nerves.

“Are you alright?” Stephen asked, stopping to look back over his shoulder.

“Great,” I said, tapping my free hand on the banister. “Never better, top of the world –”

“Tony.”

“Alright, so I’m nervous,” I admitted, not even trying to bluster my way out of it. He was worth more than that. 

“Me too,” he admitted with a small, wry smile. “If you wanted to back out... I know this is kind of sudden...”

I loved that he was giving me a way out. I loved that he was willing – that he was able – to admit he was just as anxious about this as me. I loved that he was able to talk about it, to encourage _me_ to talk about it, even though discussing our feelings came about as naturally as swimming through rock. It reminded me that for all his power, all his experience and knowledge, he was just as human as me.

_And you_ are _human,_ the thought ghosted through my mind.

“Do you want to back out?” I asked. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you...”

“How about we go slow? Just… see what happens?” he suggested with an unexpectedly shy smile. “I loved waking up next to you those couple of times. If that’s all that happens tonight, well, I’ve got no reason to complain.”

“Those last times I had nightmares,” I said. I was breathing too hard, but I couldn’t help it. His answer genuinely scared me. “Sure you can put up with more of those?”

“I’d ask you the same question.”

He stared at me. I stared at him. Two scarred, scared people who knew each other better than anyone else in the world.

“Yeah,” I said, letting my fear go. “Because you trust me enough to let me see that. And I trust you.”

His sharp intake of breath, followed by a small – but brilliant – smile, was everything I could have hoped for.

~~&~~

His bedroom at the Sanctum was nothing short of opulent. Polished wooden floor, tall windows, thick curtains. The doors on the built-in wardrobe were heavily carved with – ironically – dragons, curling around each other in patterns I found fascinating. The king-sized, four-poster bed took up most of the room, covered with thick maroon drapes. The blanket and pillows looked criminally soft. This was, literally and spiritually, a world away from Kamar-Taj.

“I’m just going to clean my teeth,” Stephen said, gesturing toward a door I hadn’t noticed near one of the windows. “Make yourself comfortable.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a blush of colour spreading across his cheeks and nose. “I’ve, uh, I’ve got a spare toothbrush you can use.”

I looked at him with eyebrows raised. “Expecting company?”

His grin was awkward and endearing. “The romantic answer is that I’ve wanted you here for a long time. The cynical answer is that there was a whole box of toothbrushes under the sink when I moved in.” He shrugged. “Both answers are true.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it, and it seemed to ease some of his tension. He smiled and headed into the bathroom.

~~&~~

I leaned against the wall, looking through the window at the New York skyline as I waited. The city at night was beautiful, a million glittering jewels on a bed of velvet. I thought about the twists and turns my life had taken to bring me to this point. It was one hell of a journey. I wasn’t the man I’d been a decade ago, or two years ago. I wasn’t even the man I’d been two weeks ago. I was… stronger, yeah. Wiser? Maybe. More experienced. More broken, certainly. But also more hopeful. Scared for my planet’s future but never more determined to make sure that we _had_ a future. 

That Stephen and I had a future.

The soft click of the bathroom door caught my attention. Stephen had stripped down to his underpants; black, snug-fitting Levi boxer-briefs. He was absolutely – without a doubt – the most stunning person I had ever seen, and I took the time to drink him in. To appreciate all that pale skin, the faint smattering of dark hairs across his chest. The teasing pink of his nipples. His dark hair was wet (presumably from a shower), making it seem even darker, hanging over his forehead in damp strands. His legs… my God, they were so long. I mean I’d always known he had long legs, he was a tall guy, but seeing him like this was a whole different experience.

And some of that perfect skin was covered with surgical dressings. I couldn’t see any of his cuts, but I knew they were there, remembered with painful clarity the explosion that had created them. Recalled the lethal shards of glass slicing through his clothes. The blood blossoming on his tunic.

“You got a little…” I touched the corner of my mouth, indicating that he’d missed a smudge of toothpaste. He hadn’t, but I needed the moment of humour – the distraction – so I didn’t keep thinking about the way blood had smeared across his skin when I’d treated his wounds.

His tongue snaked out to lick the area before he wiped his hand across the back of his mouth. That _tongue._ Wow. 

“Bathroom’s yours,” he said dryly, padding toward the bed. I headed for the room he’d vacated, and as we passed, his arm snaked out to grab my waist. He swooped in, kissed me like a ninja, then carried on his way.

“Hey!” I said, indignant, turning to glare. “Rude!”

He was facing away from me as he pulled back the thick, luxurious blanket, but I still saw his shoulders shake with silent laughter.

~~&~~

The bathroom continued the opulent, overblown theme of the bedroom. There was a huge enamel bath with four clawed feet, gilt-painted tiles, and a walk-in shower. The idea of a bath right now was so intoxicating I felt myself drifting toward it, but I opted for a quicker shower instead.

Stephen had left clean towels on the rail, a small, thoughtful gesture I appreciated. The hot water felt great against my skin but reminded me how tired I was. Not just tired – weary. Weary of living on a knife’s edge, wondering when Alduin would pop up next, like the world’s biggest, ugliest Jack-In-The-Box. Wondering when he’d raise another dragon and whether I’d be able to stop him. 

I knew it was part and parcel of being Iron Man. That every Avenger understood the feeling. And not just Avengers; anyone who had to stand up to something or someone they knew could kill them, hurt them, destroy their life… but standing anyway, because they had people to protect. Because it was the right thing to do.

I pressed my hot forehead to the cool tiles. I only ever really let my thoughts wonder like this when I was too tired to stop them. Which, when I thought about – when my thoughts wandered in that direction – was a lot. 

I scrubbed up quick and dried off, finding a box of toothbrushes in the cupboard under the sink. I wriggled back into my own boxer-briefs (grey, Calvin Klein, white waistband) and padded out to the bedroom.

Stephen was in bed, sitting up with an old book propped on his knees. When he looked over at me… I wished that expression would follow me into my dreams every night. The way his eyes widened. The way his mouth opened. The way he slowly, unconsciously, ran his tongue over his bottom lip. I was covered with scars, still had a dressing on my leg from Usreyth’s bite, but Stephen’s eyes said he was starving and wanted to devour me whole. It was intoxicating.

Then he got himself together and that single uncontrolled look vanished. But his smile was just as welcome, and when he pulled the blanket back I hurried to slide in next to him. That space was the most inviting thing I’d seen in my life.

“You’ve got a little…” He tapped the corner of his mouth with a finger. I smirked, knowing full well that I didn’t. He pulled the blanket over me.

I settled against the pillows. The mattress was so comfortable. I found myself sliding lower in the bed before I’d even realised what was happening.

“This bed,” I murmured, stretching out. The blanket was deliciously cool against my shower-heated skin. “This bed oughtta be illegal.”

Stephen closed the book and put it down on the floor. When he turned back, he rolled over onto his side. His hand slid along my upper arm, curling over my shoulder. I leaned in to his touch.

“The look on your face ought to be illegal,” he said, ducking his head to kiss the side of my chin. It could have been a trick of the light, but his eyes seemed very bright.

“I love you,” I blurted, amazed yet again that I was here. That I was right next to a person who understood every facet of my crazy, mixed-up head, that understood who I was, and most of all supported who I could be. 

“Love you too.” His eyes softened, that light seeming to grow. “Even though you can be an annoying, petulant, spoiled man-child, I still love you too.”

I chuckled, wriggling closer. The warmth of his body was a magnet. It felt so right to drape my arm over his ribs, to tangle my legs with his. 

“Good thing I know you’re an arrogant, manipulative asshat with his fingers in all kinds of pies,” I said. “Otherwise I’d take offense at that.”

His long arm slid over mine, draping over my back. God, this felt so good. He smelled clean and fresh from the shower, with a hint of his own scent that just… calmed me. Whatever lingering tension I’d been clinging to melted away.

“You take offense at everything.” His fingers stroked slow, unhurried movements along my spine. I wanted to purr like a cat, but I settled for curling in closer to him, letting my forehead rest near his chest. This close, I could just hear the slow, rhythmic pulse of his heart. 

“I take offense at that.”

“You would.” His laugh was a sleepy rumble, felt just as much as heard.

“I feel kinda bad,” I mumbled. “I came here to seduce you, and the only thing I’m about to do is fall asleep.”

“One way to make sure you go to bed at a sensible time,” he said. “And who said anything about you doing the seducing?” His arm tightened around me for a moment.

“Ah, hello?” I angled my head back so I could look into his face. “Over-achiever.”

“Likewise.” He kissed me, lips warm against mine, minty breath fanning my face. “Go to sleep, Tony.”

I felt warm, safe, and above all, content. Like I was gonna argue with that? Well, of _course_ I was gonna argue with that, it was like my default positon –

Then my exhausted brain finally caught up with me. Conscious thought took a rain-check. The only half-way intelligible reply I could make was a wordless hum.

He smiled. When he waved his hand, the lights went out. I snuggled closer to him and went to sleep.


	35. 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the morning they reaffirm their affections and make love for the first time.

When I woke, that feeling of contentment stayed with me. I’d gone a whole night – a whole night! – without restless sleep. No nightmares, at least none that I could recall. No tossing and turning, if the unrumpled state of the sheets was anything to go by. And the best thing of all – the very _best_ thing – was Stephen stretched out beside me.

The heavy curtains blocked out most of the morning sunlight, but there was just enough shining through the gap so I could see his face. He seemed completely relaxed, his body angled toward mine, one arm loosely reaching in my direction.

As I watched, just enjoying the view, his eyes opened. His sleepy smile was perfect.

“Good morning,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss me.

It was as if every good thing in my world had suddenly condensed into this one single, perfect moment. I kissed him back, trying to convey how I felt with the simple slide of tongue over tongue.

“It is now,” I agreed as I eased away.

“Breakfast?” he suggested.

“Thought we could, you know… work up an appetite first…?” I’d never once in my life been shy, but I felt that way now. I didn’t _think_ he’d turn me down – I was in his bed, after all – but still… the uncertainty was there.

He pulled me in for a deeper, harder kiss. When it ended we were both breathing hard.

“Five minutes,” he said, planting kisses down my neck. I shivered. “I need to use the bathroom, clean my teeth –”

“I don’t care about morning breath,” I interrupted.

“You’ll care about my full bladder,” he laughed.

“Kinky.” Now that he mentioned it, I kind of needed to pee as well. Damn him for being so reasonable.

~~&~~

It actually took two minutes. He let me use his bathroom, while he used one down the hall; annoyingly, he was back and waiting for me by the time I was done.

“That was quick,” I said, heading straight back to the bed. He’d pushed the blanket so far down it was almost hanging off. He’d also opened the curtains, and now the room was warm and bright. This was a little slice of perfection, our Sunday morning alone. The world waited for us outside – Alduin, Montgomery, Fury – but right here, right now, this space was ours. This _time_ was ours.

“I spent a long time in Kamar-Taj,” he said dryly. “It’s cold. I mean it’s _cold._ You learn to do things quickly.”

“Not everything, I hope.”

“Some things,” he said, patting the mattress next to him, “demand that you take your time.”

“Promise?” I climbed back onto the bed.

His throaty laugh was goddamned delicious. 

He moved so quickly it caught me off guard. One second I was up on the bed, scooching back to my place beside him; the next second, I was flat on my back and he was crouching over me, his hands on either side of my head. His face was very close to mine.

“Stealth attacks?” I said, rolling my eyes. “Come on, man –”

“You don’t ever just shut up, do you?” His smile was smug, self-satisfied, and infuriating. 

“God, no. Might even talk in my sleep one day, probably should mention that –”

He kissed me. It started slow, just a brief glide of his lips over mine, but I wasn’t going to allow that. I wanted it all and I wanted it now. I grabbed the back of his neck with one hand, keeping him over me, lifting up a little so I could deepen the kiss. His startled moan was everything I wanted to hear.

I put my free hand up to his chest, tracing my fingertips over his bare skin. The rough pad of my thumb slid over his hardened nipple. He gasped against my mouth. I gave his nipple a little pinch – just enough to sting, not enough to hurt – and was gratified by the deep, rumbling groan that echoed in his throat. I loved that I was able to make him sound like that.

“Goddamn tease,” he growled, dragging his mouth away from mine to plant hot, open-mouthed kisses over my cheek, my neck, my shoulder. He pulled back, resting on his knees. His palms ghosted over my chest, my abdomen, before resting on the jutting edges of my hips.

I watched him, watched the way his eyes burned and hectic colour spread across his face. He was beautiful.

He got his fingers under the waistband of my boxer-briefs. Paused. Looked at me. I nodded, feeling brazen in the face of his obvious desire, forgetting that I’d ever felt shy around him. I lifted my hips to help him. He slid the Calvin Kleins down my legs and off, dropping it on the floor.

He moved back in to kiss me. I could feel his hunger, his heat, and I wanted it. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, feeling the way he ground instinctively against my cock. The friction of his underpants against my skin was enough to make me hiss with pleasure.

Still kissing me, he moved his arms behind him. I felt his hands close around my calves, dragging my legs down; reluctantly, I let him, knowing he wouldn’t go far from me. He shuffled back between my open legs, planting kisses over my torso – lingering over the mess of scars left by the old ARC reactors – before heading lower. His tongue slid a trail over my hip before his teeth closed, lightly but firmly, on the top of my thigh. I felt the pressure as he sucked my flesh into his mouth. We were both too old for hickies, but _Christ,_ did it feel good. 

This was payback for pinching his nipple. He was going to make me suffer, in the most beautiful way, and I was going to love every goddamned moment of it. Was already loving every moment, especially when his mouth moved from my thigh to the base of my dick. Just a single quick, fleeting kiss before he moved lower, sliding his tongue over my balls.

My hips jerked. He got down lower, chest against the mattress, arms hooking under my thighs. I grabbed his shoulders, fingers digging lightly into his skin before moving up to grab his head. This was going to kill me. 

The hot, wet glide of his tongue over my tight balls was intense. I lay there with my head thrown back, every muscle in my body stretched, hyper-sensitive even to the heat of his breath on my skin. Every touch made my body tremble, and when he finally swiped his tongue along the length of my cock – one single long, slow lick – I moaned, almost shocked by the sounds coming out of my own mouth.

“Please,” I begged, burning under a hectic splash of emotions. Embarrassment, arousal, something more… the knowledge that I was loved, that someone cherished me – it was intense. Unexpected. I wasn’t sure I could cope with that, especially as I knew it was going to become more intense.

Stephen’s mouth closed over my cock. I cried out, hands still on his head and threading through his hair. I couldn’t catch my breath. The hot, wet suction of his mouth was incredible. 

“I could do this for hours,” he groaned, pulling away, planting slow, damp kisses against the side of my thigh. “The sounds you make…”

I let out a shuddery little laugh, raising one hand and covering my eyes.

“So embarrassing?” I tried, panting.

He pulled my hand away from my face, kissing my palm. I met his eyes, drawn by a compulsion I couldn’t fight even if I’d wanted to. The desire I saw there… the heat… it was stunning.

“So fucking hot,” he growled, surging back up my body. 

We came together in a hectic, passionate kiss, a clash of lips, tongues, teeth, and breath. His hand closed around my cock and I moaned again, bucking against him, still amazed at how sensitive I felt. Or maybe it was just that I was so responsive to _him?_ That being in love made everything more intense?

His hand moved lower. Under my balls. Teasing. I drew a sharp breath.

“Is this OK?” he murmured against my mouth. “I want to fuck you, but…”

God _damn._ I never would have imagined the Sorcerer Supreme – usually uptight, dour, and sarcastic to a fault – had a dirty mouth. It was a massive turn-on.

“You want to top,” I suggested. My hands moved restlessly over his chest. I kissed the base of his throat, his collarbone, the underside of his chin. “What if that’s what I want, too?” I was going to give him _whatever_ he wanted (sooner rather than later, because I was so fucking hard for him) but he’d have to work for it first.

He buried his face against my shoulder. His sweat-damp skin was hot against mine.

“Then we’d try that,” he murmured. “First time for everything, I guess.”

My _God._ I love this man. Loved him with every fibre of my being, the human part, the Dovah part, everything. 

“And this is _our_ first time,” I said, pressing my lips against his forehead. “So fuck me. Got the rest of our lives to explore everything else.”

He kissed me again, hard and deep, tongue battling against mine. I took that as a ‘yes’, especially as his hand found my cock again.

“Ah, lube…” His chuckle vibrated against my mouth. “Where did you leave it?”

“Jeans.” Which were… somewhere, tossed carelessly into a corner of the room.

“I want to watch you.” 

His throaty statement made my cock twitch. Watch me get myself ready for him? Watch me stroke my own dick? Yeah, I was down with that.

“You like that kinda thing?” I said, getting off the bed and heading to where I thought I’d left my jeans. I’d shoved the small bottle of lube and the strip of condoms into my back pocket. “You like to watch?”

“I want to watch _you,_ ” he repeated, emphasising the last word. 

Watching him watching me… holy fucking hell.

I found my pants draped over the back of a chair. I couldn’t recall leaving them there, so I guess at some point Stephen must have tidied up around me. It was a small gesture, the act of a tidy man who cared about his guy. Small, but perfect.

I found the lube and condoms and turned back to the bed. Stephen had arranged himself against the pillows; naked now, his boxer-briefs removed in the time it had taken me to rummage in my pockets. He was watching me with half-lidded eyes, slowly fisting his cock, free arm folded behind his head.

“Fuck,” I managed to get out. “D’you have any idea how goddamned beautiful you look right now?” He was like a Greek alabaster statue – pale skin (even if it was dotted with dressings), long limbs, legs spread. Waiting for me. 

“So do you.” His hungry, wolfish smile made me shiver. “And I’m going to make sure you know that.”

“Pretty tempted to skip the fucking part and just blow you till you come.”

His intense stare bored into me. “When you did that, before…” He let out a slow, controlled breath. “Every time I remember, it makes me hard.”

I swallowed. He wasn’t even inside me yet, and I was hooked. 

“And this?” I said, settling back against the bunched up blankets. Spreading my legs wide. Opening the bottle of lube. I tossed the strip of condoms to him; he caught it with his free hand, letting the strip drop to his side. “Are you gonna remember this?”

He’d been slowly stroking his cock up until this point, a light, casual rhythm. As soon as I opened the lube his hand stopped, fingers lightly gripping the base. Yeah, I had him, and I had no intention of letting his attention wander. 

“Eidetic memory.” His voice was a rough croak. “Never forget a thing.”

I squeezed lube onto my fingers, briefly stroking my own dick. Just a few quick, hard tugs, the smooth glide of my palm making my balls tighten. I’d have to take this slow. I was closer to the edge than I’d thought.

I moved my hand lower, slick fingers teasing. Stephen watched me. I watched him. It was… fuck it, this was the most erotic experience I’d ever had in my life. 

I eased a finger inside. So far, so good. A little more lube, another finger, and I was starting to feel the stretch. Uncomfortable, but not painful. I took my time, enthralled by the way he was looking at me, by the way he made me feel. He looked… Christ, it was like he wanted to devour me. And I wanted to be devoured.

I reached for the lube again, sitting up on my knees and crawling over to him. His hands, when he picked up the condoms, were trembling, and his distracted frown told me he was having trouble steadying them. 

Rolling his eyes, he muttered something that sounded like an incantation. Too low for me to make out the words. A single foil packet tore off the strip, pulled by an unseen hand, and ripped open. The condom floated out. It was surreal. Stephen muttered again, still too low to hear. The condom positioned itself and rolled down over his cock.

“Well, _abracadabra,_ ” I said with a wry smile, positioning myself in his lap. “We’re gonna have fun figuring out what else you can do that with.”

His throaty laugh made me want to kiss him again, but I held back, knowing that when I started I wasn’t going to stop. As I settled against him, I felt the slap of his cock against my ass, saw the way his face tightened at the contact. His pupils seemed very wide.

I squeezed more lube on my fingers, reaching behind me to smear it over his cock. He growled and grabbed my hips. He was still trembling. 

I was starting to feel a little trembly myself. The muscles in my thighs were twitching. Looking down at him – seeing the expression on his face, the desire, the… yeah, I was gonna say it, the _reverence_ – it was humbling and crazy hot all at the same time. I kept my eyes on his face as I positioned his cock where I wanted it. Christ, it felt a lot wider than my fingers, and as I slowly let myself sink onto him, I couldn’t stop a grimace of discomfort.

“It’s hurting you,” he said immediately, fingers tightening on my hips.

“It’s OK.” I couldn’t stop now. I kept up the gentle downward force, spreading my hands over his chest, until he was buried inside me all the way.

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice was tight with tension.

I let out a breathy, startled laugh. “It’s been a while,” I said. “Just gimme a minute here…” I bowed my head, getting used to the sensation. Waiting for the burn to fade. His thumbs stroked over the hard planes of my hip bones. Whether he’d intended it as such, I found it deeply comforting, and it helped me relax.

Finally I leaned forward, bracing my hands on either side of his head as I kissed him. It was so easy to let my chest sink down onto his. Our skin was sweat-slick. 

“Love you,” I murmured against his mouth, gently nipping the side of his chin.

“Love you too,” he answered without hesitation. His arms wrapped around my waist, hands splaying over my ass. “You told me you were bossy. Now show me.”

Well, there was no way I could ignore a demand like that. I started rolling my hips, working up a slow rhythm, enjoying the pleasure rippling through my body. Feeling more confident, I sat up.

Changing the angle of my body changed the angle of his cock. I felt it immediately. Every downward thrust tagged my prostate.

“ _Fuck,_ oh fuck…” I closed my eyes and moved faster. Stephen’s hands moved from my waist to my arms and back again, as if he couldn’t decide which part of me he wanted to hold. 

“You like that?” he growled, finally sitting up and wrapping his arms around me. I hooked mine over his shoulders.

“I love it.” I planted hot, messy kisses over the side of his face, his chin, his forehead. “Now shut up and fuck me – _ah…_ ” He moved his hips. His first upward thrust met my downward movement. _God._

“You like _that?_ ” His face was pressed into my shoulder. 

I rode him hard, consumed by feelings I barely understood and couldn’t put a name to. Love and lust, certainly; but beneath that were deeper emotions. Every time I closed my eyes I saw flashes of white-gold light. This was the Dovah part of me, the part that wanted to own Stephen. That wanted to possess him. But it was all mixed up with me – I mean it _was_ me, my own feelings – because I wanted to own him, too. He was _mine,_ dammit, the guy _I_ loved, the guy who loved _me –_

He was groaning into my ear, deep, pleasured sounds that drove me faster and harder. He kissed my throat. My collarbone. His hands moved restlessly over my back and ass. Each thrust made me gasp, made me babble his name and profanities in equal measure. He was taking me apart second by second and at any moment I was going to fly off into little pieces – 

He leaned back. Grabbed my cock. Jerked me with rough, frantic movements.

My whole body arched like a bow, every muscle and sinew tightening. I came with my fingers digging into his flesh, a cry ripped from my throat, almost mindless with pleasure. But as I looked at him through screwed-up eyes it seemed as if he was surrounded by a white-gold haze.

_Mine,_ I thought, and kissed him.

He rolled us so that I was on my back. My legs gripped his hips, his arms still wrapped around me and mine around him. He hammered into me with short, rapid strokes, kissing me like a man possessed, until with a single guttural cry his hips stilled. His whole body trembled.

Slowly reality trickled back. I held his face in both hands, smoothing my thumbs over his cheeks, touching the sweat in his thin beard. Touching the damp grey hairs at his temples. As I let my legs drop I became aware of the ache in my thighs. The burn in my ass and the ripple of after-shocks. The absolute, bone-deep feeling of contentment spreading through the rest of my body. We kissed – slower now, more relaxed, the hunger satiated. It was sloppy and exhausted and perfect.

He raised his head. A slow, sleepy smile lit his face. 

“Love you,” he rasped.

I stroked my fingers down his sides, enjoying the way it made him shiver. “Love you too. Now don’t take this personally, but you’re a dead weight, I’m covered in come, and my ass is on fire.”

He laughed, a startled explosion of air from his mouth, quickly getting out of control. I pinched his ass but that only made him laugh louder.


	36. 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They part briefly to allow them to clean up, but once separated, Tony encounters a terrifying, one-eyed tentacle monster who warns him that Stephen is keeping secrets.

We cleaned each other up and had a shower. We decided on separate bathrooms – making love had been intense; as with the first time we’d touched each other in a sexual way, we needed a little alone time to decompress. 

But as I let the hot water sluice the newly-discovered aches from my body, my mind just kind of… sat at idle. Usually my anxiety whirled around like a hamster in a wheel, bouncing from one thought to the next and on and on and on. That ever-present anxiety had always spiked every time I’d been with Pepper, because it drove home just how fragile she was. I don’t mean mentally – she was the smartest woman I’d ever known, the bravest, the kindest – but physically, she’d been a regular Joe. I knew she’d been able to look out for herself, more or less; she’d taken self-defence classes, and if someone had tried to mug her in the street she’d have kicked their ass – but I’d always been terrified something would drag her into my mess. 

And that _had_ happened. Twice. The first time, when Aldrich Killian had kidnapped her, she’d shown her metal and saved my life. The second time… I hadn’t been able to save hers. I’d never forget that.

But with Stephen everything felt different. The underlying anxiety was still there, the general worry I felt at the responsibilities of being Iron Man, of being considered a protector of mankind. But Stephen wasn’t just a sorcerer. He was the Sorcerer _Supreme,_ the strongest, most powerful user of magic on Earth. Maybe even in this dimension. He owned the battlefield. It was hot – increasingly so the more I thought about it – but it was also comforting, because I knew he could look after himself.

I realised this was a contrast to how I’d felt about him even just a couple of days ago. The fear that when he went out to fight he’d get hurt. That he’d… that he’d die. Those things were true and one day, yeah, this was going to carry us both off. But I think I’d come to terms with that. We were using our time to help people, to save lives, to stop the bad guys. The time we had together – every minute, every second – would be because we fought to make that time.

Besides, you could die just crossing the street. Getting out of bed. Walking down the stairs. We were in the privileged position of making our deaths count for something.

“Wow,” I said to myself. “Way to turn your happy thoughts maudlin, man.” 

That made me laugh. I blew water out of my face and reached for the soap.

When I was done I wrapped a towel around my waist and opened the door to the bedroom. I was going to find my clothes, Stephen, and food –

The doorway was filled with black, ethereal smoke, a giant eyeball, and a mass of tentacles. 

~~&~~

I stared at the monster in the doorway, stunned to immobility by its presence in the house of the Sorcerer Supreme. It was huge – a single gelatinous eyeball, dirty yellow rather than white, glistening with some alien liquid. A large pupil, black as tar and twice as deep. It was surrounded by a smoky black cloud that wasn’t smoke at all. I couldn’t smell it, couldn’t see through it, but I felt it – _oily._ Out of that greasy nimbus dozens of black tentacles emerged, coiling around each other, brushing over the ceiling, walls, and floor. Reaching for me.

I slapped at my chest, only realising as I hit hard flesh that I’d dumped the ARC reactor with my clothes. I was defenceless against this horror, I was –

“ _Fus-Roh-Dah!_ ” The words came out without any conscious command from my brain, driven by the white-gold power inside.

Unseen waves of force smashed into the giant eyeball. It rippled, the pupil contracting as if in pain, but didn’t move.

“Hold, _Dovahkiin._ ” The voice came from everywhere and nowhere; male, immeasurably old, smug and self-satisfied. “I wish you no harm.”

“And I wish for a stack of pancakes!” I snapped. “Stephen! Stephen?”

“He cannot hear you. For a small period of time, this pocket of your world is in mine. It will give us the privacy to discuss business without interruptions.”

As he spoke, some kind of greeny-beige substance oozed out of the walls, creeping across the tiled floor. It moved under my feet before I realised what it was doing. Disgusted, I moved back a few steps, but the floor was covered. It chilled my feet. 

“What the _fuck…_ listen, let me out of here or you’ll get another _Fus_ to the face!” Alright, not my snappiest comeback – and not entirely true, I’d used the full Shout and it had a cooldown period – but he didn’t know that. _It. It_ didn’t know that. 

Although he knew I was Dragonborn…

“You will go free shortly, unharmed, untouched. That is not my purpose.” His – its? – tone of voice implied that, if it had been his business, he’d have zero issues with ending my life. And making it hurt.

“And what _is_ your purpose, asshole?” Creeping panic clenched my gut, but I grabbed it in a mental fist and held on tight. The situation was bad – no suit, no magic – but it wasn’t terrible. Eyeball Dude wasn’t attacking. Those tentacles could squeeze me like a ripe banana… but they weren’t. The monster wanted to talk. So, until a way out presented itself, we were gonna talk. If it came down to it, I was gonna put my fist in that giant eyeball.

“I merely wish to present you with the truth. The Sorcerer Supreme is lying to you.”

“Right… like I’m gonna believe some giant alien eyeball.” 

“You are a weapon, _Dovahkiin._ You have power. When you walk through your world, the ground shakes. You are... a threat.” His tentacles quivered and rippled. “It is the role of the Sorcerer Supreme to neutralise threats. To use whatever weapon is at his disposal to protect his realm.”

“Get to the point, asshole!” I growled, though I knew what he was saying. I knew _exactly_ what he was saying, and I didn’t believe it. I wouldn’t. I’d believed it of Nick Fury, because I knew him too well, knew the lengths he would go to protect Earth, but Stephen? No fucking way.

“He’s using you. By having you at his side, you are docile, controllable. No-one should control the power of the _Dovahkiin._ You are a wild element, a force for change. Untameable. Yet you have been tamed.”

Horseshit. Of course it was horseshit.

“Aaaand you’re telling me this ‘cause you want me to come work for you,” I said. “Right. Not gonna happen. Now fuck off outta this bathroom. Or at least hand me my underpants, come on.”

“I offer you things he never could,” the disembodied voice wheedled. The tentacles writhed and twisted. “Knowledge is power, and I have so much knowledge to share. Your suit of armour… with my backing, you could improve it to the point of perfection.”

“And what do _you_ get out of it?” The idea that it wasn’t already goddamned perfect was an insult.

“A powerful ally. One of the most powerful individuals in the Multiverse.”

“Flattery will get you kicked out,” I said, trying not to sweat. When a giant eyeball starts calling you powerful, shit was most definitely getting real. 

“With my knowledge –”

“Knowledge has to be earned.” The fear was receding, fading into the background, burning under the power of my anger. Mine – the Dovah’s – at this point it was almost impossible to distinguish between the two, because we were the same. The Dovah was part of me and I was part of it. “I don’t want your knowledge because I didn’t go through any kind of process to learn it. We’re done here.”

The eyeball made a thoughtful noise. “For now. I would ask only that you think on my words, _Dovahkiin._ Do not dismiss my offer out of hand. And watch your Sorcerer, for he is deceiving you.”

Before I could come back with a scathing insult the eyeball flickered, like an image on a TV with poor reception. The tentacles wavered. In the space between one blink and the next, he was gone.

Stephen’s white, shocked face stared back at me from the other side of the open door. His hair was still wet from the shower. He was wearing jeans and a dark red sweater. His feet were bare. His outstretched palms suggested he’d spent the last couple minutes trying to get past whatever block Eyeball Dude had put on the bathroom.

He surged forward, arms wrapping around me in a crushing hug, burying his face against my neck.

“I’m OK,” I said, hugging him back. “Confused as all fuck, but OK. What the hell was that?”

“That,” he said, lifting his head so he could speak into my ear, “was the closest you will ever come to meeting a god.”

~~&~~

I dressed in yesterday’s clothes. Stephen said nothing, just watched me with dark, brooding eyes.

I followed him down to the Sanctum’s kitchen, a large, airy room with a big wooden table, heavy furniture, and sunlight streaming in through long windows. Stephen sank into one of the chairs, elbows on the table, hands bunched into a fist in front of his face as he gnawed at a thumbnail. I leaned against the wall and waited for him to speak. I needed coffee and something to eat, but that was going to have to wait. I tucked my hands into the pockets of my jeans.

“His name is Hermaeus Mora,” he said eventually, staring sightlessly into nowhere. “He belongs to a race of individuals known as the Daedra. He… well, I’m using the pronoun ‘he’, but Daedra are far enough beyond our realm of existence that they have no gender. Or rather, it’s fluid, they can be whatever they want to be, appear in any form they choose to take.”

He let out a slow, shuddering breath, then finally looked at me. I understood the babble of information was because he was rattled. He wasn’t showing off, wasn’t trying to impress me with how much mystic shit he knew. He was just scared and trying not to let it show. 

“His interest lies in knowledge,” he continued. “The information hidden in memories and prophecies. He lives in his own realm, his own dimension, which he calls Apocrypha.” 

“He has his own crib,” I said. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Beings with that much power often do. What did he say to you?”

I considered tailoring the truth. Leaving out the bit where Hermie accused him of lying to me. I considered that for a full half-second, then dismissed it as a fucking crazy idea. I trusted Stephen – with my life, and my love. That was more than enough for me.

“He tried to offer an alliance,” I explained. “Said you’re basically using me as a weapon, and that if I threw in with him instead he’d open up his monster fun box of toys.”

Stephen flinched. His eyes closed.

“I told him to get lost,” I continued, gaze trained on his face. “I mean, I know he’s lying, you wouldn’t use me like that –”

“He’s not… Tony, he’s not exactly wrong –”

“What?”

He opened his eyes. The expression in those grey depths seemed tortured. 

“Being Dragonborn gives you access to a level of power I can’t possess,” he said, racing to get his words out. “You’re a real force for good in this world, you’re a protector –”

“Am I,” I snapped, cutting across him, pushing off the wall, “or am I not, just a weapon to you?”

“Of course not!” His eyes widened with distress, reflecting fear and uncertainty. His, mine, I had no idea. “You’re not ‘just’ anything! You’re…” He shook his head, looking momentarily at the ceiling, and when he looked back his eyes were damp. Holy _fuck._ “You’re one of the strongest people I know. You’re powerful – as Iron Man, as Dragonborn, as _yourself_ – and I’m honoured you offered me your friendship. I’m honoured you allowed me to be your ally. I don’t view you as a weapon, I never did, but I’d be lying if I hadn’t considered tactical ways your new abilities might be deployed.”

In the past I would have exploded. Just upright shouted in his face. This argument would have destroyed us, would have ripped us apart the way my beef with Steve Rogers had ripped the Avengers apart. 

But I wasn’t that guy anymore.

So I breathed. I just stood there and breathed, hands on hips, looking at the black and white tiled kitchen floor until my anger began to subside. 

“Alright,” I said eventually, looking up. Stephen was white as milk. My reaction mattered to him. “I believe you. I think… the kind of people we are, we’re always gonna be looking for the tactical advantage. Life has taught us to look at things in a certain way.” 

I didn’t like admitting this, but it had to be said. This was the way Fury looked at the world. The way all Avengers looked at things, whether we realised it or not. It coloured our friendships. Our relationships. Everything.

Stephen slumped over the table, burying his face in his arms. I crossed the kitchen and put an arm around his shoulders. _He_ was the confident one, the controlled one. Seeing him like this hurt.

“Thank you,” he said, voice muffled by his arms. “I’ve been trying to keep this asshole away from you since this started, but he’s persistent.” He sat up, wiping at his cheeks with long, slim fingers. I wanted to lean forward and replace his hands with my own, then pull him in for a hug, but something nagged at my mind. Something obvious. Something…

“Tentacles,” I said, dropping into the chair next to him. 

“Uh…”

“Tentacles,” I said again. “That first time you were MIA, you came back with a tentacle wrapped around your leg.”

He stilled. “Yes.” He looked wary now. Defensive. 

“Was it one of his? Hermie’s?”

“Yes.” The word was clipped and precise. 

“That was the night I killed Usreyth.”

“Yes.”

“You’ve known about him since that night. At _least_ since that night and hell, I don’t know, maybe earlier.” I didn’t want to get angry with him again – God knows it was exhausting – but it was still simmering away. How the fuck had it come to this? “And you, for whatever mystic reasons you have, didn’t tell me. At any point.”

“That’s… correct.”

“Were you ever gonna tell me?”

That wary look grew even warier. There was a tightness around his eyes, his mouth, that I’d never seen before.

“If he hadn’t contacted you directly… then no. I wouldn’t.”

“ _Why?_ ” I didn’t want to sound like a little kid, constantly asking _why, why, why,_ but it was hard. Right now I _felt_ like a little kid, kept in the dark, only told things other people decided I needed to know. 

“Don’t do this, Tony –”

And that was exactly what I didn’t want to hear. He really _was_ treating me like a little kid.

“Don’t do what?” I snarled, the anger spilling out. “Don’t hope that the guy I fell in love with would treat me with enough respect to tell me the fucking _truth?_ That you wouldn’t just parcel up bits of information and hand them out like candy?” I got up, full of restless energy, and kicked the chair. 

Too late I remembered my feet were bare. Pain lanced up my foot, making my toes throb. I hobbled away. Deliberately turned my back on him rather than let on just how fucking much that had hurt. 

_Your foot or your heart?_ God, I didn’t know. Either. Both.

“Because I didn’t want to push too much on you, OK?” Stephen said. I heard the scrape of his chair. Had he got up? “You’d just found out you were Dragonborn, you were freaking out about having access to magic, I didn’t want to push _this_ on you as well!”

My eyes were burning. I wanted to just walk out of here, find some room, some space, to get my head back together. But I couldn’t do that. My anger had vanished as quickly as it had arrived. The vacuum it left behind had turned me into a mess. 

“You fucking asshole,” I ground out. My throat was too tight. I squeezed my eyes shut, but moisture still leaked between my lids. “How dare you think of my goddamned emotional well-being. Only complete pricks do that.”

His watery laugh told me that maybe there was a way out of this, and when his hands curled gently over my shoulders I knew we were over the worst of it.

“Did I do the wrong thing?” he asked. He sounded hesitant, uncertain. “I just wanted to make things a little easier for you.”

“No,” I sighed. I swiped a hand across my eyes. “You didn’t do the wrong thing, you thoughtful bastard.” I turned, lifting his hands so that his arms draped over my shoulders. He linked his fingers behind my neck. I wrapped my arms around his waist. “But I don’t like being kept in the dark.”

“I understand that.” His face was still tense, voice still uncertain. “This… sharing information, I mean… it’s hard for me. My position means I have to keep a lot of secrets.”

“I get that.” I gave him a little squeeze. “But please, don’t let it turn you into someone like Fury.”

“God.” He shuddered. “Never. I won’t let that happen.” 

“Then you have to open up. Trust that I can cope. Will you do that?”

“I’ll try. I promise.” 

I reached up and cupped his face. It wasn’t a promise that he _would_ share, but it was a start, and I had to acknowledge that. Love meant accepting the good – the bad – and the fucking annoying. 

I kissed him. Gentle. Deep. Reaffirming that I cared.

“Now let me sit down,” I said as I eased away. “I think I broke my fucking toe.”

~~&~~

Stephen examined my foot. My toe was covered in dark purple bruising, but I could move it.

“Probably not broken,” he said. “But there’s not much we can do even if it is –”

“Yeah, yeah,” I grunted, waving away his concern even though I secretly loved it. “Can’t do anything for broken toes, blah blah blah. Heard it all before. Just get me some coffee already.”

“You forgot to say ‘please’…”

“Yo, injured here.” I gestured to my foot. Yesterday’s socks were lost somewhere in his bedroom, and I hadn’t bothered to waste time looking for them. “Think that means I don’t have to be polite.”

His lips twitched. “What’s your excuse the rest of the time?”

I laughed and slapped the table. “Just get me some coffee, big guy.”

The switch from arguing to joking was dramatic, but I think we both needed it. A way to diffuse the tension. This wasn’t our first argument and I wasn’t naive enough to think it would be the last: - we questioned things, and we kept questioning until we got an answer. We wanted to know everything. It wasn’t just knowledge for its own sake; it was so we could make the best possible decisions.

Stephen made breakfast – tea, coffee, fried eggs and toast – and we ate in silence, each of us intent on eating. The food and caffeine eased the last of the tension between us.

“We need to talk about how we’re gonna deal with Hermie,” I said, sipping the last of my coffee. “And I have questions.”

“Of course you have questions,” he said dryly. “Ask. I’ll do my best to answer.”

I smiled to show that I appreciated he was trying. He smiled back. Yeah, we were good again. 

“Alright. So, how did he get into the Sanctum, how do we stop him getting in again, what is he gonna do if we attack, how easily can he kick our asses, where the hell did he even _come from,_ how does he know I’m Dragonborn… and… can I have a pony?”

Stephen stared at me, eyes comically wide. “You need a pony after you rode me this morning?”

That made me blush. Me. The guy with no shame. But it also made me smile, and when he saw that, he smiled, too.

“We’ll revisit that later,” I promised, and then it was his turn to blush. “But man, this guy just waltzed right into your _home._ ”

He grimaced. “It’s… alright, it’s not quite as simple as that. He wasn’t ever in this dimension –”

“He was right there in the bathroom –!”

“What he _did_ was project a facsimile of himself into the room. To stop me entering, his avatar coated the room with enough of his own essence to make it seem like his realm. I couldn’t touch it.”

I remembered the oily black miasma covering the walls and floor. Then I remembered the burn marks on the wall outside.

“And you tried,” I murmured thoughtfully. “You really tried.”

There was no smile on Stephen’s face now. “I threw everything I had at that barrier. Everything. And nothing worked. I thought…” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

He didn’t need to say it for me to understand. He’d thought I was hurt. Or dead. Hell, for most of that encounter, _I’d_ thought I was going to get hurt.

“I Shouted at him,” I said. “Shook him a bit, but didn’t move him.”

“That’s a cheery little thought.”

“And I couldn’t get to my suit. The ARC reactor was back out with my clothes.”

His eyes met mine. He understood what I was saying – that I’d come close to feeling helpless again, even with my new abilities and new suit. His hand closed over mine, fingers gripping tight.

“He won’t be able to do that again,” he said, the firmness of his voice making it sound like a vow. “I’ll strengthen the warding spells, key some specifically to keep him out. With your permission, I’d also like to ward the Avengers’ Compound.”

“You got it.”

“As for your other questions…” His fingers tightened further on mine, almost painfully. I didn’t mind. “He wants you as an ally. He won’t attack you. Me, he views as a threat. Taking you away from me would be…” His lip curled back in a savage sneer. 

“Hey, hey.” I turned my hand in his, squeezed tight. “Not gonna happen. It’s two eyeballs or nothing, man.”

His startled laugh was everything I wanted to hear. 

“Never lose your sense of humour,” he said, leaning in close to brush a kiss over my cheek. I turned my head and kissed his lips. When he pulled back, his eyes were sparkling. “As to where he came from, that’s an interesting question.”

I frowned. I wanted to get back to the kissing, but this was too important. 

“Go on,” I said.

“Daedra can travel between dimensions and worlds, but they consider Nirn to be their home –”

“Son of a _bitch!_ ”

“That was – more or less – my reaction,” Stephen said dryly. “I suspect Arngeir’s departure from Nirn may have drawn his attention. My first encounter with him happened after Arngeir’s arrival. It makes sense.”

“So how do we stop him?” 

“I think we need to talk to Arngeir about that.”


	37. 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Stephen talk to Arngeir about Hermaeus Mora, and learn about Miraak, the first Dragonborn. After a Sunday afternoon spent in bed, the couple decide to meet Peter at an IHOP, to keep him up to date on their progress with Alduin. Over a meal they come up with an idea to keep Hermaeus out of their Universe. Stephen returns to Kamar-Taj to begin the ritual.

“By the Nine!” Arngeir’s jaw dropped, shaking his long beard and drawing out the wrinkles on his weathered face. “Hermaeus Mora, _here?_ The _power…!_ ”

“I believe what we encountered was his avatar,” Stephen cautioned. “That makes some difference. Not much, but…”

“At this point we’ll take what we can get,” I added.

We’d rushed our way through breakfast – which I was still sore about, you just should not rush coffee – and Stephen had opened a gate to Kamar-Taj. It was coming up to seven in the evening there, dark and cold. As usual the courtyard was brightly lit, empty except for a pair of students, cross-legged under a tree as they meditated. I could think of more comfortable places to get your spiritual freak on. 

Now, we were sat around another table, this time drinking tea. It was nice tea. Jasmine, something aromatic. But it wasn’t coffee.

Arngeir stroked his beard. “You must be wary, Dragonborn. One does not deal lightly with the gods.”

“No such thing as gods,” I snapped. Then, realising I was basically shitting all over his religion, I tried to back-pedal. “I mean, I don’t believe in God or gods or whatever.” Right, time to close my mouth. 

But he didn’t appear offended. “I believe mighty Akatosh created my world. That does not mean I believe he created your world; the Multiverse is a virtually infinite place, well beyond the control of one race. Even a race as powerful as the Daedra.”

“I am keen to discuss Nirn’s religion with you at length,” Stephen said, “but right now, we need any information you may have regarding Hermaeus. This is not his world. Not his dimension. I will _not_ allow him to interfere.” 

The steel in his voice was… frankly, it was sexy. I wanted him to use that voice in the bedroom. Command me to do something. I’d fight him, act out, refuse to cooperate. He’d throw me on the bed and… 

…and I pushed _that_ fantasy to the back of my head. I had to keep my mind in the game, even if I wasn’t too sure what the game was right now. This was business. I couldn’t allow myself to get distracted.

“There is something you must know about Hermaeus,” Arngeir said, still stroking his beard. “And the first Dragonborn.”

I leaned forward over the table. “I’ve been thinking about that,” I said. “I mean, what happened to the Dragonborn in Alduin’s time? When Gormlaith and the others at the Throat of the World used the Elder Scroll and kicked his ass into the future?”

“That was the _first_ Dragonborn.” Arngeir’s voice was grave. “His name is Miraak. Akatosh gave him the soul of a Dovah so he could act as a balance to the dragons. It was his responsibility to fight them, but instead… he threw in with them.”

“What does that mean?” I could barely comprehend how that would work. Every time I saw a dragon, I wanted to fight. That wasn’t the human part of me. _That_ part was scared as fuck. The Dovah part just saw these scaley-assed motherfuckers and wanted to challenge them.

“Miraak saw them as his brothers. He learned their tongue, allied with them, and was worshipped as they were –”

“Cultists?” I interrupted. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just, there’s this dude I’ve been trying to find, looks like he’s gone mad or something. Robe, staff, ranting about dragons being gods.”

“Indeed. The Cult of the Dragon was a powerful force in the history of Nirn, and has taken power again with Alduin’s return. Your world is no exception.”

Stephen made a thoughtful noise. “Let me guess. Hermaeus Mora offered Miraak knowledge in return for his servitude.”

“Just so.” The old man’s voice wavered. “I do not know the nature of this knowledge, but it had such significance that Miraak turned against his draconic brethren. Records are scarce, but it is believed he battled a fellow priest and lost. Hermaeus took him to Apocrypha. _That_ is why he did not deal with Alduin. He rebelled, fell, and was imprisoned… or perhaps rescued.”

I stifled a groan. Alduin, Hermie, dragon priests, Montgomery, Miraak. What the fuck else was I going to have to deal with? Flying goddamned monkeys? 

“Is this Miraak gonna be a problem for us?” I demanded.

Arngeir shrugged and looked at Stephen.

“I have no idea,” Stephen remarked. “If Miraak has freed himself from Apocrypha, what are his motivations? Can he even get to Earth?”

We shared a look.

“How ‘bout we just focus on one enemy at a time?” I suggested. “Alduin first, then Montgomery. If Hermie wiggles his tentacles again, we’ll deal with that, too.”

Stephen smirked. “You make it sound so easy. I love your optimism.” 

~~&~~

Stephen left me chatting with Arngeir while he went off to strengthen the warding spells on Kamar-Taj, the Sanctum and the Avengers’ Compound. I’d wanted to come with him, but he explained that it was long, hard work that involved him sitting cross-legged on the floor for hours. My boredom threshold was low and he knew that.

Still, Arngeir was surprisingly fun to talk to. When he wasn’t talking shop he could have been your grandpa (or maybe your weird uncle who lived out on a commune with all the other weird old guys). He told me about his life at High Hrothgar, this huge, draughty old building on top of the Throat of the World. When visitors came, he said, the Greybeards were all super-serious; they talked a certain way, kept their hoods up, and behaved. When they were alone? They played games with the single parts of their Shouts. It was hilarious – they had this one Shout, they called it Whirlwind Sprint, and they used it to race each other. 

I pictured it – a bunch of old guys in grey robes, beards flapping, racing across the snow. Yeah, they needed to get out more.

~~&~~

It really _was_ hours before Stephen came back, gone ten at night Kamar-Taj time. He looked weary. His face drawn and damp with sweat.

“It’s done,” he said, nodding a greeting to us both. “Let’s go, Tony.”

“Why don’t you pull up a chair?” I suggested. “Grab some more drinks? Arngeir was telling me about the time he played a joke on the guy who brings them food…”

Stephen’s expression softened. “Sure, why not. Maybe I can tell you some of the tricks my students get up to.”

“I’d like to hear about some of the tricks _you_ got up to, when you were a student.” 

“Tricks? How very dare you.” But he was laughing. 

~~&~~

When we finally got back to the Sanctum, it was midnight Kamar-Taj time. We’d moved from tea to beer – some locally produced brew that was light and refreshing – and grabbed something to eat. Now, back at the Sanctum, it was early afternoon. I wasn’t jet-lagged, not with instantaneous travel, but the time shifts were going to mess with my head at some point. I made a mental note to ask Stephen how he coped.

“This is weird,” I said as we stepped back through the portal. “We’re in the middle of a conflict and there’s just… nothing for us to do. H.E.X and S.H.I.E.L.D are working on their energy tracking thing, Fury’s finally dealing with the dragon bones, and I can’t fight Alduin until we find him again.” I felt like a spare part.

“You need to learn how to enjoy down-time,” Stephen said, gripping my shoulder. “Because when it stops, it may not come back.”

“You’re just a little rainbow of optimism,” I said sourly.

“Of course I am.” His grip on my shoulder tightened, and he tugged, encouraging me to stop closer to him. “Because I have a lot to look forward to in my down-time.”

I moved close enough that I could feel his warmth. His eyes seemed to sparkle.

“Is that so?” I asked, sliding my hand over his sweater.

“Well, I’m _hoping –_ ”

I fisted my hand in the fabric and yanked him down for a kiss. _I_ was hoping, too.

~~&~~

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d spent a Sunday just relaxing. Months? Years? It made me kind of sad to realise that. Even when I hadn’t been off fighting bad guys, I hadn’t been able to relax. There’d always been something interesting going on in the lab, or a tech conference, or a charity ball. 

I wondered now – as I collapsed back against Stephen’s mattress, sweaty and sated – how much of that was down to how I’d felt about Pepper. I’d loved her, sure, but I was beginning to think I’d loved being in the lab even more. Right now – with Stephen reaching for me again, feeling the weight of his body against mine as he rolled between my legs, his chest against my belly – I knew that the lab could wait. My projects would still be there. Because Stephen was _right_ here, _right_ now, doing that thing with his tongue that drove me crazy in five seconds flat –

I threaded my fingers through his hair, tugging his head up. Meeting his eyes. They burned with grey fire, searing into me, letting me know without words the depths of his emotions. 

Yeah. This was where I wanted to be. Right here, with the man I loved. 

~~&~~

As I lay back against the now-thoroughly tousled sheets, half-asleep, with Stephen’s head pressed against the side of my chest, I let my mind drift. I knew this was just the first glow of our relationship. That it could wear off at any time. But I was determined that if it did – _when_ it did – I was going to work my ass off to keep what we had. 

But what we had right now was empty bellies. Sex burned off way more calories than battle and even though I was tired, I was also _starving._

“IHOP,” I said through a yawn.

“You’re saying that like there’s no possibility we could go anywhere else to eat,” Stephen said dryly, planting lazy kisses over my ribs. “And what about a takeaway?”

“Because _IHOP,_ ” I said, rolling my eyes. Honestly, that place was the answer to all life’s questions. “And I wondered… maybe we could invite Petey?”

His eyes brightened. “Sure. A lot’s happened over the couple of days, we need to keep him in the loop.”

“Actually, I just wanted to check up on him,” I admitted with a smile. I was glad he hadn’t dismissed my suggestion. I liked that he was possessive – hell, I was too – but I also liked that he could let other people in.

“That kid really looks up to you, did you know that?”

“Kind of hard to miss,” I said. “But less of the kid, hey?”

“What is he, eighteen –”

“It’s not about age. It’s about maturity, and _man,_ he runs rings around me. He works hard and looks after the people he cares about.”

Stephen gave me a thoughtful look. “That includes you.”

“Yeah.” I felt a flash of guilt about that. It should be me looking after him, and I did, as much as I could. “He’s learning how to call me out on my bullshit. The… the awe, I guess, is wearing off.”

Stephen grinned. “And now I like him even more.”

~~&~~

We congregated in an IHOP a little while later. None of us spoke much until the first round of food had gone. Stephen came to the dark side and had coffee.

“So how’s it hanging, Petey?” I asked as we waited for our order to arrive. “Catching up with your school work?”

“Dude, I never even got behind. I’m like half a semester ahead already.”

“Only half?” 

His lop-sided grin was cute. “I don’t wanna show up the rest of the class.”

“How’s things with MJ?”

“Uh… going OK, I think?” He coughed, shifting in his seat. “She wants to know what’s going on with the dragons. I haven’t told her anything.”

I considered it. “Might as well tell her,” I said. “I mean, it’s not like the rest of the world isn’t gonna find out what’s happening soon enough. There’s footage of the London fight, yeah?”

“Not as much as you’d think. News networks got a lot of drones up, but most of ‘em got knocked out of the sky.”

I grimaced. I hadn’t even thought about the media side of things, but it was something I was going to have to consider sooner rather than later. So much had changed for me. Professionally. Personally. My relationship with Stephen would be dragged into the limelight.

Well, _fuck_ the media. I didn’t care who knew we were together. Sharing a look with Stephen, I could tell he felt the same.

~~&~~

We spent time catching up. Hard to believe it had only been four days since we’d last seen him, because so much had happened. I gave him a first-hand account of the London attack. It helped ease a little of my guilt to lay it all out for him – even though Stephen had insisted I’d done all I could to stop Alduin, I don’t think I’d truly believed him. Giving Peter a report made it easier to see things from a different angle. And when we told him about Hermaeus Mora, he gave us a fresh perspective that immediately eased some of my anxiety.

“So Alduin and this Miraak guy are basically enemies, right?”

“Far as I can tell,” I said. “He was buddies with them, then Hermie offered him a shiny new toy and he ran off to play with it.” The idea of friendship with a creature like Alduin was revolting. Dragons lived to conquer, to dominate, to exert their will on everyone and everything around them. I understood that from my interactions and from the way I felt every time I went up against one of them. The Dovah part of me saw each of those leathery motherfuckers as a challenge.

“So if Miraak was here,” Peter continued, “if he’d somehow made it to Earth, Alduin would probably go after him and leave you alone. Axe to grind, that kind of thing. At the very least he’d split his forces.”

That made sense. If this Miraak was as powerful as Arngeir seemed to think he was, then next to him, I was small change. 

“So we’re thinking he’s still trapped in Apocrypha, then.”

“Yeah. And this alien eyeball dude, he’s out recruiting a replacement Dragonborn.”

The arrival of our second round of food – and top-up drinks – curtailed the conversation, but we ate more slowly this time, allowing the conversation to continue. 

“Hermie can look in another universe,” I said sourly. “ _This_ Dragonborn’s not for turning.”

“So what happens next?” Peter asked. “With Hermaeus Mora, with Alduin?”

I told him about Fury’s plan to track the draconic energy signature. “As for Hermie…”

“I’m still thinking about that,” Stephen said. “He’s more powerful than me. That doesn’t mean he’s as _smart_ as me.”

“Said with no trace of arrogance,” I muttered, shaking my head. Under the table, Stephen kicked the shin of my uninjured leg. I snickered. 

“In my experience powerful entities come to rely on their power,” he continued. “Or their weapons, or their science. They forget to use their cunning.”

“Wait, what? You’re making this about me, right? I feel like you’re making this about me.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s about all of us.” He pointed at Peter. “A lesson we could all learn. Sometimes the flashiest, fastest, loudest, most visible way isn’t the _best_ way.”

“Tactics, man,” I said. 

“So how do you fight a giant eyeball?” Peter asked, baffled. “I mean, you said you went up against him twice already, and it didn’t go so well either time.”

“What do giant eyeballs do, Peter?” Stephen asked.

“Uh…” He looked to me, baffled. “Hover in the air? Wave their tentacles around?”

“Simpler than that.”

He frowned. “He’s an eyeball. I guess… eyeballs… see…?”

Stephen smiled. “And how do you stop someone seeing?”

“Oh, oh!” I sat up straight. “I know this one! You give ‘em a black eye!”

“Tried that,” he said dryly. “Didn’t work. Peter?”

Peter was frowning, looking at the table, drawing absent doodles on the Formica surface.   
“You… turn out the lights…?”

Stephen’s grin was as fierce and proud as any father’s, and for the first time I realised that was how he’d come to view his relationship with Peter. As a parental figure, a role model. And goddamit, if that didn’t make me proud of _him._

“You turn out the lights,” he agreed. “I can’t kick Hermaeus out of this Universe, but I can make it invisible to him. If he can’t find it, he can’t get in.”

I let out a whistle. “You’ve got some balls there, man.”

“This is _our_ universe.” He let out a low, controlled snarl that surprised me as much as it turned me on. “And the door is _closed._ ”

~~&~~

After Peter left, Stephen opened a portal back to the Compound and came through with me. I hoped he would stay the night. But the tight, set look on his face told me that wasn’t going to happen.

“I have to go,” he said, waving a hand at the portal. The IHOP shimmered and vanished, replaced by Kamar-Taj. His hands closed over my shoulders. “Hiding this universe from Hermaeus is going to take time. The enchantments will be complex and I need to do a lot of math first just to make sure they’re possible. I’ll need all the masters of Kamar-Taj to assist.”

“How long?” A feeling of unease settled in the pit of my stomach.

He shrugged. “Hard to say. Days, perhaps.”

“ _Days?_ ” I stared at him with disbelief. I pushed my anxiety away, knowing I had to be mature about this. “Alright. OK.” Man, this was hard. If it only took hours, fine, great, I could cope with us being apart for that long. But days?

_Couples spend days apart all the time, weeks sometimes. Get used to it. You’re both living lives on the edge, and sometimes those lives are going to make you dive right off._

That didn’t make me feel any better. I wanted him _here,_ with me. Sleeping next to _me._ Waking up next to _me._

“I’ll check in when I can.” One hand moved to cup my face, his scarred fingers moving over my cheek. 

Ah, hell with it. Trying to hide how I felt about something never seemed to work very well. I moved in to his space, wrapping my arms around him. Enjoying the feel of his arms closing around me. 

“I know you have to do this,” I said thickly, keeping my face pressed against his shoulder, “and I know it’s important, but Christ. I don’t want you to go.”

He kissed the top of my head. “ _I_ don’t want me to go. But I won’t let Hermaeus Mora have you, either.” There was iron resolve in his voice. “I hate the possibility you might have to go up against Alduin again without me, but this is equally important.”

“I’ll have Petey,” I said, trying to reassure myself as much as him. “And S.H.I.E.L.D, and H.E.X. But you know this isn’t about Alduin.” So much for reassuring myself.

“Yeah.” His hand slid under my chin, tilting my head up. “I’m going to miss you.”

I opened my mouth to say that I’d miss him too, but I couldn’t get the words out. So instead I just leaned in and kissed him, showing him without words how I felt. We stood that way – wrapped around each other, slowly kissing – until, with a final soft, regretful sigh, he pulled away and stepped through the portal.


	38. 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda asks for Tony’s assistance with Fitzsimmons’ energy tracking device. In the process he begins to build a solid friendship with Wanda. Testing the device, they pick up a blip in the Mojave Desert, the place Fury just happened to put the excavated dragon bones. Tony and Wanda rush off to investigate.

I felt… aimless. No goals, no projects, no direction. It was getting late enough that I could have just gone to bed – got a decent night’s sleep – but I was too restless.

“And you can’t activate the Strange protocol right now, F.R.I.D.A.Y,” I said as I headed to the kitchen to make coffee. “He’s busy.” _And will be for a while,_ I thought sadly.

“I was going to suggest a relaxing bath,” she replied. “You need time for self-care, boss. You’re still recovering from your injuries.”

It had been comparatively easy to push my ouchies to the back-burner. There’d always been something more important going on. But she was right. While my leg was healing well (I was lucky it had been a flesh wound, rather than a bone break) it still hurt. Add to that about a billion bruises… yeah, I should be taking it easy.

~~&~~

I woke in the small hours of the morning. The blanket was tucked under my chin. Slow, hot tears trickled down the side of my face. Not a nightmare, not this time. Something worse. My chest ached. The fear of being alone, of waking up one morning and realising that Stephen would never come back. 

The worst thing was that I knew – eventually – this would happen.

~~&~~

No way could I get back to sleep after that. My head was all over the place. Sadness; fear; the creeping inevitability of death. One day, maybe sooner rather than later, Stephen or I would take a hit we couldn’t recover from. One of us would die. The other would be alone. I knew this, but I’d still wanted a relationship with him. I still did. I _always_ would. Because being with him – every part of being with him – was worth the pain when it finally ended.

_God!_ I had to stop thinking such fucking maudlin thoughts. But that was what happened when I was tired. My brain got all squirrelly, went down paths it shouldn’t take. I could try for another couple hours of sleep… an hour at least… but I was too awake. I was tired, but not sleepy.

I wanted to message Stephen. But he’d be busy. What even was the time over in Kamar-Taj? Had he got any sleep? I couldn’t make my sluggish brain do the basic mental arithmetic required to work out the time difference.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, where the fuck did I leave my cell?”

“In the kitchen.” She sounded cross. “I’ve a brain the size of a planet, I’m not a ‘Find Your Phone’ app.”

I laughed, surprised and delighted that I could still laugh after my miserable early morning start. “You’ve been reading _The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy_ again.”

“I’m beginning to develop a sympathy for Marvin.” But her voice had warmed, and I realised she’d deliberately tried to make me laugh. She was amazing, absolutely fucking amazing, and I would fight anyone who told me she wasn’t alive.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, heading into the kitchen. “Take it up with your union rep.”

I found my phone on the table. There was a string of messages from Stephen and a voicemail from an unknown number. Greedy, excited, I opened the messages first.

_Make sure you go to bed at a sensible time._

_Lab time is not sleeping time._

_Are you in bed yet?_

_Sleep well._

_I love you._

There was a gap of a few hours between that one and the next. The last made my heart clench.

_Miss you._

I called him. It went straight to voicemail. He was either sleeping or ass deep in some arcane spell. Was it going to be like this the whole time he was away? Missing each other’s messages? Pressing my fingers into suddenly teary eyes, I tried to get a grip and messaged him back.

_F.R.I.D.A.Y talked me into a bath and an early night. Woke up lonely. Miss you too._

I followed it up with _Love you. I should have taken a selfie in the bath._ I hoped that would make him smile.

I fixed myself coffee and toast while I dialled up the voicemail, switching my cell to speaker while I put bread in the toaster. Wanda’s familiar voice filled the room.

“Mr Stark, I apologise if I’ve caught you at a bad hour,” she said. “I was wondering if you’d be able to help us with our… project?” Even though this was a secure line, I appreciated that she didn’t want to get into details. “We’re running into a few technical difficulties.”

She had my full, undivided attention. There was nothing that grabbed my interest quite like the phrase ‘technical difficulties’. I called her back as I watched coffee drip into my cup.

“Got your call,” I said as the line connected. “Kind of in some down-time right now, so just tell me where I gotta be.”

“Thank you.” Wanda sounded surprised. I realised she hadn’t thought I’d help. Given our history, _I_ wasn’t surprised at her reaction. “I know you’re supposed to be resting, Fury was adamant about that –”

“Two things,” I interrupted. “One, Fury is not the boss of me. Two, I rested. Spent a whole day doing just that.” Among other, intensely pleasurable things, none of which she needed to know about. “So I’m gonna say again, where do I gotta be?”

Her laugh was awkward and relieved at the same time. “I’ll send a Quinjet for you. How soon can you be ready?”

“Gimme a half hour to finish my nails… just send the jet, already.”

~~&~~

I’d finished my coffee and toast by the time F.R.I.D.A.Y told me a Quinjet was approaching. I told her to give it permission to land, then headed outside. 

I shielded my eyes against the dust and debris as the aircraft landed on the driveway. The door slid open and a staircase unfolded. Wanda stood in the doorway, the wind kicked up by the jet tossing her hair around. I ambled inside. The entry system closed behind me.

“Thank you for being available so soon,” Wanda said, taking a seat. I took one opposite, bracing as the jet took off.

“Not much I can do until Alduin shows his ugly face again,” I said, “or until we get that tracking device on line.” I kept my mouth shut about Hermaeus Mora. If I told her, it would get back to Fury, and I didn’t even want to speculate about how he’d react to _that_ news. If – _when_ – Stephen’s cloaking spell was done, none of us would have to worry about Hermie again.

“It’s the tracking device we need to speak to you about,” she said. “We – that is, Fitzsimmons… I mean, Leo Fitz and Gemma Simmons,” she corrected herself, “have been brainstorming ways to tune their instruments to the specific frequency of energy Alduin emits. Fitz can’t get the tech side working, and I can’t get the magic side working. Miss Simmons suggested you could help.”

“Is there no-one else to help you in H.E.X?” I asked, curious as to how the sub-department of S.H.I.E.L.D worked. 

“Um… I _am_ H.E.X.,” she replied, ducking her head. “Fury hasn’t found anyone else with abilities like mine.”

I wasn’t sure he ever would. Her skills were the result of tinkering by H.Y.D.R.A, of decades’ worth of research and experiments, and finally, the use of an Infinity Stone. The Stones were far beyond our reach and those experiments couldn’t be replicated.

That wasn’t to say her abilities couldn’t be replicated in other ways. But for now, the young woman was on her own.

Well. Not _quite_ on her own. They weren’t playing for the same team, but I was pretty sure Stephen would make a point of keeping tabs on her. Out of professional courtesy, if nothing else. She was powerful, capable, and brave, but like Peter she was young. She needed guidance. Yeah, Stephen – and me – would be keeping an eye. 

“Got enough redheads working for the team,” I said, giving her an easy smile to show I was teasing. “So how does this Simmons think I can help?”

“We need to study you.”

My humour vanished. “I’m not a science project.”

Her skin flushed red. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. Miss Simmons – she’s a biologist – she thinks the energy levels you utilise for your Shouts are similar enough to Alduin’s to allow her to calibrate our instruments.”

Oh. That actually made sense. I dialled back on the outrage.

“So it’s my body you guys need, not my expertise? Have to tell ya, I don’t mind sharing, but Stephen might have something to say about that.”

She didn’t smile, instead looking at me with wide, anxious eyes.

“That was a joke, kiddo.”

“I’m sorry, I…” She shook her head, making her long, straight hair sway. “Humour is something I’m having to learn.”

I had a sudden snapshot of what life must have been like for her. A normal upbringing, with her brother and parents, until _boom,_ a Stark missile ended that forever. Then years with H.Y.D.R.A, submitting herself to their tests, their trials and experiments. Sokovia… losing her brother… her time with the Avengers, the break-down of our team…

My _God,_ this woman had known nothing but suffering. And even when life _should_ have got better for her, it hadn’t. The Pure Human league, going into hiding, even working for H.E.X… I mean, come _on._ She _was_ H.E.X.

“Forget the project for a few minutes,” I said, shaking my head. “How ‘bout we talk about you?”

“Me?” She sounded mystified and, I thought, a little wary.

“Yeah. You. We’ve never really had the chance to talk properly, just you and me.” She knew my fears more intimately than anyone except Stephen, but I tried not to think about that.

“I’m not sure this is the right time…” She looked away.

This was starting to feel like familiar territory, and I began to see a way I could help her. Mentor her, I guess, if she’d let me. It wasn’t a position I’d ever thought I’d be in. But it felt right. If she’d had the right guidance in the past… 

“In my experience,” I said quietly, turning sideways in my seat and scooching forward, “there’s never a right time for anything. One of the hardest things people like us have to learn is how to balance the day job with our personal stuff. Sometimes – often – it’s not possible to find that balance, so you have to find another way to fit things into your life.”

She gave me a long, thoughtful look. “Have you found your balance with Stephen?”

I grimaced. “I think that’s gonna be one long, uphill struggle,” I replied truthfully. Finding the time to be together – making our relationship work when all this shit with Alduin died down – that was going to be tough. But I’d seen what life with him could be like, and I wanted it so, so badly. 

“You understand…” Her voice trailed off.

“I don’t understand nearly as much as I should.” I could be honest about that. “But I’ve experienced a lot. That counts for something.” I leaned back against the seat. “This is about Vision, right?”

Her lop-sided smile vanished as soon as it arrived. “Yes. This is about Vis.” She sighed. “He’s still in hiding, but not from Pure Human.”

I made an intuitive leap that made me wince. “Let me guess. Fury.”

“He was created to fulfil someone else’s purpose,” she said. “He wants to find his own.”

“And he absolutely should be allowed to do that,” I replied. Vision was another casualty of my own personal fuck-up; my child, Ultron’s child, and with the addition of the Mind Stone, a child of the Multiverse. He was part J.A.R.V.I.S, and J.A.R.V.I.S had been _all_ mine. “You need any help, just let me know.”

“Really?” She seemed sceptical. “You would help him?”

“I’ll help you both, if that’s what you want.” I had a moral responsibility to make sure Vision was OK, but for the best part of two years I’d been content to know he was safe. Those two years… yeah, I guess I’d had my head in the sand about a lot of things – Vision, Stephen, my place in the world. I couldn’t walk away from any of them.

“I would like that.” Her smile was still small and anxious. “Fury never outright says it, but I know he wants to keep Vis confined.”

“Confined? Honey, no.” I tried to gentle my voice. “He’ll use him. Weapons, research, whatever he wants. That’s what he does with people.” I hesitated. “That’s what he’ll do to you.”

Her expression locked down, something cold and hard showing in her eyes. I fought the need to move away from her, trying not to flash back to the moment she’d rammed her mental fingers into my brain. She wasn’t that person anymore. But I had the impression her ghost was never far away.

“That’s what he’s trying to do,” she said. “And that’s what I’ll let him think he’s doing. But it runs both ways.”

God. She was using Fury every bit as much as he was using her. By heading up H.E.X, he’d given her access to resources she’d never had; the things she could learn here, the abilities she could gain, could be phenomenal. And she knew that. 

In some ways – a _lot_ of ways – Wanda was wiser than I would ever be.

~~&~~

Fitzsimmons’ lab was in the ass-end of nowhere, deep beneath a field and concealed behind a featureless grey door. The lab was huge, clean and bright, and already I felt my palms itch with the need to explore. But it was rude to play in someone else’s lab without permission. 

“This is Leo Fitz,” Wanda said, gesturing to a small, nervous looking guy. When we shook hands, it was clear he was one walking ball of excess energy. “And Gemma Simmons.” She turned to a tall, slender woman with shiny brown hair caught back in a neat pony-tail. She seemed a lot calmer than her colleague.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Stark,” Fitz said. His accent was Scottish. “It’s an honour to work with a scientist of your calibre.”

“Oh, stop,” I said, grinning, “you’re gonna make me blush. No, don’t stop, don’t stop.” He laughed. “You’ve got a hell of a reputation, yourself.”

“You follow my work?” His whole face lit up. God, it was like looking at a hairier version of Peter. 

“In an unofficial capacity.” I tapped the side of my nose. “S.H.I.E.L.D doesn’t like to share its secrets, but _man,_ do I love ‘em.”

He seemed slightly perturbed by that, but the woman, Simmons, just laughed. 

“He’s going to spend hours now trying to work out how you breached our security protocol,” she said. Her accent was British.

I grinned. “Who do you think helped develop it?”

~~&~~

We got down to work. It was obvious that Fitz and Simmons had spent many years working together, and it was further apparent – to a guy who’d recently admitted he was in love – that the pair were head over heels for each other. Whether they’d acknowledged it between themselves yet, I had no way of knowing, but it was obvious they cared for each other. 

Fitz was in the middle of writing a program that, once loaded onto the hardware he was also in the process of designing, would lock onto Alduin’s energy signature. But as Wanda had explained on the flight over, they were having trouble identifying the specific signature in the first place. That wasn’t something Wanda could help with.

“Wanda’s explained that Alduin is able to exert some kind of control over Richard Montgomery,” Simmons said in that earnest Brit accent I was really beginning to dig. She was beautiful, in an elegant, English-rose kind of way, and at one time I might have tried to make a play for her. Even seeing how smitten Fitz was. Yeah, I’d been _that_ kind of asshole. I was still an asshole, but muscling in on someone else’s territory was never going to happen again… partly because I was afraid it might happen to me. Stephen said he loved me, but I thought I’d always be scared someone else might take him away. 

God, I missed him.

“And because you _and_ Alduin both perform these Shouts,” Wanda said, picking up from Simmons, “we believe your energy signatures are similar enough that we can calibrate the instrument to you, and then…” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I kind of got lost after that bit.”

Simmons smiled, but it wasn’t condescending. I got the sense she would be a great teacher.

“We can widen the frequency,” she explained. “We should be able to find Alduin _and_ Montgomery.”

I rubbed my hands together. “Alrighty then. Let’s make some magic.”

~~&~~

We skipped lunch and finally called a halt sometime around mid-afternoon, when we were pretty sure we had a working prototype. It was around that time my stomach reminded me that toast was no way to get through the day. F.R.I.D.A.Y had dropped reminders every hour or so, but I was getting good at tuning her out, especially when I had new friends to play with. 

“I really think this is going to work,” Fitz said as we sat around a table in the cafeteria. “I mean we still need to test it, but I’ve got a good feeling.”

“Wish I had a good feeling about _this,_ ” I said, eyeing what could have been meat on my fork. “Tastes like plastic. Seriously. I’ve had better fast-food meals. Does S.H.I.E.L.D spend so much on its projects that it forgets the food budget?”

Simmons snorted, politely trying to hide it, while Wanda smiled. Fitz simply shovelled food into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed.

“You get used to it after a while,” he said. “When you’re saving the world, a little thing like bland food takes a back seat.”

I was tempted to wind him up some more – push and prod on that nerve, just because it was fun – but I genuinely liked the guy, and given what I’d seen of his work, I respected him. So I put the genie back in its box and carried on eating like a good kid.

~~&~~

Fitz’s device was a small, hand-held box, about the size of a cell phone but a little bulkier, like a satellite phone.

“What are we calling this thing?” I asked as he and I headed out into the field surrounding the bunker. There was really only one way to test this baby, and after hours sitting at a laptop, I was happy to fire up the repulsors. Wanda and Simmons had elected to remain in the lab. Simmons muttered something about ‘monitoring the data flow’, but I think she just wanted some alone time to talk about Fitz with Wanda. I could both appreciate and understand that. Relationships were scary and confusing, but when they worked, _man._

“I don’t know,” Fitz said, scratching his head. “Basically it’s just a glorified sensor. We haven’t even got a name yet for the specific type of energy used by Dovah.”

Out in the sun, he looked white as a lily. Fitz was a pure scientist, one who hadn’t squandered his youth getting drunk at parties, driving fast cars, or wasting money on lavish holidays. 

Having said that, he _was_ a S.H.I.E.L.D agent. They had their own rigorous protocol to even be considered for the club. He’d worked with Phil Coulson – one _hell_ of a guy – and that meant something. Pure scientist, sure, with a liquid shot of steel at his core.

“Can’t call it a Dovah sensor,” I said. “That’s just… there’s no class.”

“It’ll do for now.” His grin told me that nomenclature wasn’t his problem. “I’m hoping it’ll help us understand and detect other types of energy, and to increase the power of our detectors,” he added, tapping away at the device’s touch-screen.

“You wanna be careful there,” I cautioned. “The more you look, the likelier it is you’ll find something you don’t wanna see.” I was thinking specifically of Hermaeus Mora, but the Multiverse was larger than my understanding. What Fritz was talking about was starting to border on Stephen’s territory.

“Can’t tell that until we see it,” he said with a fatalistic shrug. 

“Bet you’re a blast at parties,” I said, slapping him on the shoulder. 

I tapped the ARC reactor. Nanites streamed out of the unit, and in seconds I’d suited up. Fitz stepped back, looking me over with professional curiosity. 

“Impressive,” he said. “A new design. Are you utilising new materials?”

I hadn’t told anyone from S.H.I.E.L.D about the suit. I gave him a flat look.

“Dragon bone, maybe?” he tried again.

I jumped, engaging the repulsors, and rocketed into the sky.

He wasn’t getting shit about the suit. It was propriety technology and S.H.I.E.L.D was _not_ getting any more information out of me than they already had. Fury had enough detail with Rhoddy’s War Machine. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, patch Fitz into the audio.”

“Patching now, boss.”

“Come on,” Fitz was saying. “Can’t you give me just a _little_ bit of background on the new design? You’d have had to vaporise the bones to get them to bond with the nanites, surely –”

“You’re a genius,” I grunted, putting on an extra burst of speed. I angled off and picked a direction at random. “You’ve got access to bones. Go play in your own sandbox.”

I heard a muttered comment that might have been “Arsehole.”

~~&~~

It was getting late before we finally had a device we were confident would find Alduin. After a little trial and error and a _lot_ of recalibration, it locked on to my energy signature. I appreciated this was going to be used for a good purpose, but in the back of my mind it occurred to me that if S.H.I.E.L.D kept this – and the data Fitzsimmons had acquired during the research process – I’d never be able to go off-grid. 

Fuck it. Problem for another day. Maybe I’d just ask Stephen to open a portal into the universe next door.

~~&~~

I took a moment, as the others were gathering back in Fitzsimmons’ lab, to check my cell. Stephen had replied to my messages with a string of his own.

_This is boring as all hell,_ he said. _We can block HM, but it’s going to take all our efforts. The ritual itself will take nine or ten hours. We’re starting soon._

I checked the time he sent the message. About eight hours ago. Holy shit, this came in soon after I tried calling him. I wish I’d checked earlier. On the plus side, that meant it was only an hour or so until he was finished. That brightened my day.

Another one, a few minutes after the first.

_Still miss you. Still love you too, douchebag._

A third, a minute after that.

_Next time you take a bath,_ he said, _take a selfie. Lots of bare, wet skin, lots of bubbles…_ He’d added a heart-eyes emoji. Well, damn – I’d never pegged Stephen Strange as the kind of guy who even _used_ emojis.

I didn’t bother trying to call him, knowing he’d be balls-deep in this ritual, but I did reply to his messages.

_You. Me. Bath tub. It’s a date._ I followed it up with a string of x’s. 

Then, _We’re about to try tracking Alduin. If I don’t get the chance to say it again, I love you._

~~&~~

Wanda and Simmons were hovering behind Fitz’s chair when I went back to the lab.

“We ready to cook with this thing yet?” I asked.

“Ready and waiting for you,” Fitz said.

“I’m touched. Fire it up.”

“Executing now.” He pressed a button on the keyboard.

I looked at the screen. It displayed a map of the world, with a target sign moving across the globe. The map kept zooming in.

“We’re getting a blip in the Mojave Desert,” Fitz said, eyes glued to the screen. 

“Alduin or Montgomery?”

“Until we investigate, we can’t tell,” Simmons replied. “The instrument is calibrated to you, and we’ve allowed for a wide frequency on either side of your specific signature. We have the technology. We just don’t have the data.”

“Guess I’d better go found out,” I said grimly. Either way, I had a fight on my hands. “Any chance of support?”

“You’ll have it.” Simmons was frowning. “I _think_ there’s a S.H.I.E.L.D base out there…”

Fitz tapped out another command. Lines of data scrolled up the screen.

“There is,” he said.

“Ah, _shit,_ ” I said, reeling back. “Gimme the co-ordinates. Fury said he was gonna put the bones in the middle of the desert. Wanna bet it’s the same place?”

~~&~~

I was out of the base and airborne in less than a minute. Wanda trailed behind, putting on serious speed, but not fast enough to keep up with me. I couldn’t feel bad about that and I didn’t think she would, either. Something was about to happen – was probably already happening – and we needed to get there as quickly as we could.

I almost called Stephen. But he’d still be tied up in the ritual. No way could I interrupt that. Keeping Hermie out of our Universe was every bit as important as getting rid of Alduin.

“We’re reading multiple signatures now,” Fitz said over the suit’s intercom. “In all likelihood Alduin is raising the remaining dragons.”

“Roger that.”

I tried to crush the instant panic his comment created. We’d known this was a possibility; hell, not just a possibility, but a likelihood. That’s why Fury had moved the bones to the desert. Away from population centres, we wouldn’t have to worry about collateral damage, and we could hit a _lot_ harder.

If Alduin had raised up the remaining four dragons, we’d need to.


	39. 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the middle of the Mojave Desert, and with the help of S.H.I.E.L.D’s Quinjets, Tony takes on four dragons. Just as it looks as if he’s about to triumph, a number of Dragon Cultists just the battle. Alduin flees through a portal – but this time, Tony follows.

The Mojave S.H.I.E.L.D base was located at the bottom of a long, wide valley. On a quiet day, all anybody would see was a single grey bunker door. 

This wasn’t a quiet day. As I drew closer I felt the steady, maddening rise of Dovah energy. The ball behind my chest was pulsing. Growing. Rising to the challenge of so many dragons in one place. 

I wanted to tear into them. Rip their wings from their bodies. Watch as they slammed into the ground.

I took a slow, steadying breath, unsure (not for the first time) just how much of that bloodlust was the Dovah, and how much was me. Maybe it was time to stop thinking of them – of myself – as separate personalities. It was just me. This was who I was now.

I hovered high above, taking a minute to assess what was happening below. Four dragons. According to Montgomery’s mad rant a couple days ago, I now knew that the two white-scaled dragons were Jutkiimgro and Dunvithond. The bronze was Ondusaav, and the copper was Keldezrii. I couldn’t see Alduin. But I could sense him, hovering at the other end of the valley. Concealed behind a magical shield. _Coward._

Fury wasn’t fucking around here. He’d deployed Quinjets, and as I tracked the trajectory of their missiles in my suit’s HUD, I could see they were packing serious firepower. But the jets lacked Dovah manoeuvrability. Though they were able to keep pace, the dragons easily evaded their missiles. 

The bottom of the valley was a mess of churned up rock, twisted metal, smoke, and fire. My bet was that Fury had put the bones underground, maybe even deeper than they’d been before, in the hope they’d be so deep Alduin’s power couldn’t reach. He’d been wrong on that one. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, check for life signs?”

“Minimal, boss. The only human signatures I’m detecting are in the Quinjets.”

Good. It meant that, even though Fury had buried those goddamned bones deep, he’d expected Alduin to show. He was trying to keep the casualty list as low as possible.

“OK,” I said, lacing my fingers together, then bending my hands back so the knuckles cracked. I rolled my head around on my neck. “It’s time to go make some purses.”

“You should wait for Miss Maximoff.” F.R.I.D.A.Y’s tone was admonishing. “She’s only a few minutes away. It’s always sensible to have back-up.”

In my periphery, the bronze dragon Ondusaav – pursed by two Quinjets – veered sharply up, his body curving and neck stretching as he strained to perform the manoeuvre. One jet rolled away, wary of attack, putting space between them. The other didn’t respond in time. Ondusaav completed his circular movement, tucked his wings tightly along his back, and grabbed the rear section of the jet with his massive rear claws. He lunged forward and drove his jaws into the jet’s cockpit.

“This fight could be lost in a few minutes,” I said, keeping my eyes trained on the locked combatants. If Gormlaith could kill four dragons in one day with nothing more than a sword, some iron armour and a bad attitude, I could take on these bastards. 

I angled down and initiated the broadsword program. Nanites streamed into my waiting hand. I had time for a quick course correction – and to get both hands on the hilt of the sword – before I hit Ondusaav.

The blade sliced through his thick hide and deep into his flesh. There was no finesse involved, no time to choose the best target; I’d stuck him in the ass, more or less. I directed more juice into the foot repulsors and angled upward, tightening my grip on the hilt and dragging upward through the dragon’s body as I pulled away. He screamed, a high, shocked sound, and immediately pulled away from the stricken jet.

I’d opened a massive gash in the top of Ondusaav’s back leg, almost reaching his spine. It bled profusely, thick red liquid splattering his flank and making his bronze scales blaze like rubies in the merciless desert sun.

The damaged jet tumbled out of the sky, spinning around and around as it fell. A tiny speck – the pilot – ejected from the ruined cockpit, and I let out a silent sigh of relief that he was still alive. His parachute angled away from the aerial battles. 

He looked like a frail, fragile target, but there was no time to worry about him getting to safety because oh God, now I had three dragons all arrowing toward me. Ondusaav, eyes burning crimson with fury, was flanked by the two smaller white dragons.

“Seriously questioning my life choices,” I gulped, then let years of combat experience take over.

I angled straight up, trusting that I was faster than them. Faster, smaller, way more manoeuvrable – these were all advantages I needed to use against them.

“ _Fo-Krah-Diin!_ ”

I looked down just in time to see a cone-shaped snow-storm blasting toward me. I leaned out of the way, injecting more power into the repulsors. But I’d been caught unawares. Didn’t react in time. 

The force of the blast knocked me off course. Alarms went off throughout the suit. Lines of data scrolled up the HUD. I couldn’t bend my arms or legs. Couldn’t turn my head. The suit was frozen solid, covered in a thick sheet of ice.

“Great, perfect, amazing!” I said, forcing my panic down. If I survived the next couple of seconds, I wouldn’t make the mistake of underestimating them again, and I certainly wouldn’t let myself get within range of a Shout. “Divert power to the heating system, F.R.I.D.A.Y!”

I’d made the suit resistant to extremes of heat and cold, but resistant didn’t mean immune.

“This will affect your repulsors, boss.”

“Ah, affect how?”

“It will shut them off.”

“Do it.” Sweat trickled down my forehead. If I didn’t do this, I wouldn’t be able to take evasive action. One of those dragons would just snap me out of the air. 

“Diverting power now.”

Forward momentum stopped. I felt myself drop, saw the skyline rush past my faceplate. The three dragons tried to maintain their altitude until a barrage of Quinjet missiles made them scatter.

“The, uh, the ground’s getting pretty damned close!” I yelled. If I hit the rocks I’d survive – the suit was designed and specifically enhanced to cushion those kinds of blows – but it would hurt like hell. And I could end up breaking more than my pride. 

But the ice encasing my suit was cracking, small pieces ripped away by the air stream. I was surrounded by a cloud of steam that, I imagined, made me look like a comet as I plummeted. I tried to help it along, straining to get my arms and legs moving, until with a single massive _crack_ the remaining ice shattered.

F.R.I.D.A.Y was already pushing energy back into the repulsors. As I fell, the familiar yellow-orange beams deployed, slowing my descent. The churned-up mess of the ruined S.H.I.E.L.D base loomed closer and closer…

I came within kissing distance of the ground. Terror tore at my stomach. With a scream of release I shot back into the sky, body tensed against the G-forces despite the suit’s cushioning abilities.

Ondusaav was engaged with two Quinjets, each of them harrying his sides while he lunged from one direction to the next in an effort to catch them. I flew up to meet them, directing my flight to come up underneath him.

He didn’t seem to notice, too busy trying to keep the jets out of his face. Tightening my grip on the sword, I ducked beneath the massive swinging tail, avoiding his back legs, and drove the blade into his soft underbelly.

His scream was so loud the suit automatically tried to dampen it, but it still made my ears hurt. His blood splurted over my armour. I dug the weapon in deeper and dragged it forward, directing more power to the foot thrusters and reinforcing the nanites around my hands, arms and shoulders to give me more strength. The moment I punctured his abdominal cavity, I got splattered with guts: - a massive, uncoiling rope of steaming innards that slapped over my helmet and shoulders.

I heaved the sword free, fighting my instinctive reaction to puke, and pulled away. Ondusaav tumbled to the ground. His wings flapped weakly as he tried to save himself. He slammed into the ground, body tumbling over itself in a gory mess of blood and rubble, finally stopping against the side of the valley.

I gained height again. Looked for the next target. No time to savour the victory – or drown under the guilt of such a brutal attack. 

White-gold energy, the dragon’s soul, streamed through the air, sinking through my suit and into my flesh. The rush was intense. I battled the feeling of new power, the feeling that I could take on the Universe and win. The arrogance and almost overwhelming sense of entitlement. 

Then a set of massive claws clamped around my torso, and I got over the rush pretty damned quick.

I braced my arms and legs, straining, trying to break the white dragon’s grip. Jutkiimgro or Dunvithond? I had no inclination to ask. 

One of the Quinjets was keeping pace. It didn’t attack. Good – didn’t particularly relish a direct hit from a missile.

I pushed an electric pulse through the nanites. The white dragon yelped and let me go, wheeling away, but I followed him and grabbed his tail. His long neck whipped around. I dodged the snapping jaws and, as he came back in for another bite, I rammed the broadsword through the bottom of his muzzle.

His head whipped back, the force of his movement pulling me with him. I set my feet against the bottom of his jaw – deliberately burning his scales with the repulsor lasers – and heaved, trying to pull the sword free, but it must have jammed up in the bone. I redirected power and heaved again. The sword came free, streaked with blood, and I tumbled away. I checked my wild tumble and ducked back in close.

The dragon was screaming, wings flapping in a wild frenzy, mad with pain. I shimmied inside the reach of his gore-streaked jaws and rammed my sword into his throat. I pulled it free and rolled aside to avoid the gush of arterial blood. 

His choked gurgle was the only thing left behind as he spiralled out of the sky. White-gold energy surged out of his corpse and wrapped around me.

I closed my eyes and tried to ride out the rush, teeth gritted. I’d just killed two dragons in as many minutes. I was _better_ than them; I would kill them all, watch their broken corpses crash to the ground, watch as Dovah flames consumed their flesh and left nothing behind but bones –

“Boss! Incoming!”

I heeded F.R.I.D.A.Y’s warning too late – by the time I’d wrenched my eyes open, I felt the crushing weight of jaws clamping around my torso again. The second white dragon. Hot panic surged through my system. Goddamit, the white ones fucking _loved_ body-bites.

“Which one are you?” I asked, sweating, punching at his upper jaw. An inch – maybe even half an inch – and I could wriggle free. “Jutkiimgro? Are you Jutkiimgro?” I took the feral growl in the back of his throat as a negative. “Dunvithond, then.” I punched again. No movement. His jaws were a trap I couldn’t spring. “ _Fus-Ro-Dah!_ ”

My Shout hit Dunvithond dead-on, tearing into scales and ripping through flesh. But his jaws just locked more tightly around me. The nanites responded, strengthening the suit. I let out another electric pulse.

Dunvithond screeched, the sound muffled by my body, but _still_ didn’t let go. I gave him another pulse: - more intense, almost as much as the suit could produce. His screech intensified, so loud and close the audio system had trouble filtering it out, but the asshole just would not _let go._

Maybe he couldn’t. The scales around his lips and eyes had burned, had blackened, but he just clamped down harder. His eyes whirled red with something that could have been agony, fear, or rage. Maybe it was all three. My ribs – still tender from Usreyth’s attack in Salamanca – groaned, and so did I. 

I was _not_ going to die like this, caught in a monster’s jaws like a fucking rat in a trap. Dovah defiance rose up inside me, filling my vision with white-gold flames, mixing with my own human stubbornness and determination.

I clamped one hand onto Dunvithond’s top jaw. One hand onto the bottom. Enhanced by the suit’s strength, by my own rage, I heaved, forcing his mouth open. He resisted – muscles and tendons straining – but I was relentless, filled with fury. I wrenched until I was free and then I carried on wrenching and then oh God, somehow I’d moved until I was _in his mouth,_ he was trying to crush me but I had my feet set on his lower jaw and my hands on his upper, and where the _fuck_ did I go from here –

The ARC reactor glowed. I fired a laser down Dunvithond’s throat.

I rolled out of his mouth as he went limp, body tumbling out of the air, greasy black smoke following his corpse down. I hovered, bracing myself for the high as I absorbed yet another dragon soul. It was… fuck, it was _glorious._ Power crackled along my limbs, sparking off the end of my fingertips, surging through the suit. I was brimming so full of energy it might have damaged the old suit, but the bone nanites were as much a part of me now as the energy. It was Dovah. _I_ was Dovah. 

Was this what it felt like to be a god?

I gained height, looking out over the aerial battle scene, taking a few seconds to catch my breath. The dragons, for all their power, had one critical flaw – they didn’t work together. Even though they had the same goal, they fought each battle individually. 

The Quinjets were different. They flew in formations, switching partners, growing and shrinking as separate units moved in and out. They adapted to each situation and that was exactly what they were doing now. Without the other three dragons to cause havoc, the single remaining copper dragon – Keldezrii – was running for his life. Three jets on his tail, two above and behind, three below and in front, each ready to peel off and flank if he tried to roll out of the way. I left them to it and looked for Alduin.

He was still here – I could sense him – but he was still hiding. As I searched, a red streak approached between two low hills and resolved itself into Wanda. She was surrounded by the faint crimson glow of her magic; with her hair streaming out behind her, pale skin flushed and pink, she looked beautiful. And scary powerful.

“You’ve been busy!” she called, hovering about ten feet away from me. I heard her voice as clearly as if we were in a room alone together. I didn’t question the magic, didn’t think how it was being used. Just accepted it. I was so full of energy – so… _effervescent…_ a little random communication magic barely popped up on my radar.

I glanced at the valley below. Bleached white dragon bones lay scattered across the rubble and tangled metal. Yeah, I’d been busy.

“Alduin’s still here somewhere. Fritz, can your detector find the sneaky little bastard?”

“We’re working on it,” he replied over the suit’s intercom. “There’s a signal, but it’s scrambled, we can’t get a lock on it.”

“He’s shielding. We’ll have to get through that.”

Alduin’s behaviour was beginning to bother me. So far he hadn’t directly engaged in the fight, and I wanted to know why. Maybe he was just hanging back to see how his buddies got on? But that didn’t feel right, especially as three of them were already dead and the fourth was about to go down. Almost… almost as if he was using them as cannon fodder…

“Wanda,” I said, “something feels hinky about this. I don’t know how your magic works, but can you… I don’t know… sense anything off?”

She gave me a cool look. “If you ask if I sense a disturbance in the force, there will be consequences.”

I grinned and made a mental note to try that on Stephen.

“Does this look like the kind of face that would… actually no, don’t answer that.”

She smirked, then closed her eyes, arms outstretched. Her fingers moved as if she was touching invisible strings. Hell, for all I knew, that could be exactly how her abilities worked.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, scan the area,” I murmured, keeping my eyes on Keldezrii. That sense of something _off_ was increasing, but I couldn’t put my finger on what was wrong. It was just a feeling in my stomach.

“I can find nothing untoward, boss.” F.R.I.D.A.Y’s soft Irish lilt wasn’t as reassuring as I’d hoped.

As I watched, Keldezrii, the copper dragon, finally managed to break away from the harrying Quinjets. He’d taken damage – a _lot_ of damage – and most of his scales were black and crisp. His wings were tattered and his flight was laboured. His jaws gaped. I felt a surge of power –

“They’re all bunched too close together,” I muttered. “Pull away! Pull away!”

“ _Ven-Gaar-Nos!_ ”

The force of the Shout ripped out of Keldezrii’s jaws, golden lines of energy that distorted the air around it. A massive cyclone materialised in the middle of the Quinjet bunch, the whirling vortex dragging them together. They tried to fight it – and several of the outermost jets managed to break free – but it wasn’t enough. Jet after jet crashed together, orange-red explosions shining through the obscured air. If there were survivors, I couldn’t see any through the thick wall of air.

_Your fault,_ I told myself furiously, speeding down toward the copper dragon. _You’re the fucking Dragonborn, your job is to act as a balance! Not leave it to someone else!_

The reasoning part of my mind tried to tell me that the men and women who’d just died were trained agents, that they’d gone into this knowing they could die. That didn’t make it any better. I wasn’t just Dragonborn, I was an _Avenger,_ and I dealt with shit like this so that no one else had to.

Keldezrii, his attention still fixed on the crashing Quinjets, didn’t see me coming. I came in hard and fast, from above and behind, the point of the broadsword targeting the back of his neck. As the heavy, razor-sharp blade sliced through his scales, flesh, and then bone, I thought I heard that crazy bitch Gormlaith laughing in the back of my mind.

_Matched you,_ I thought briefly, driving the sword as deep as my suit’s augmented strength could manage. It erupted from the other side of the dragon’s neck. _Four for four. Just the big guy left now, and it’s gonna be him or me._

Keldezrii tried to scream. Nothing came out but a choked gurgle: - his Shout had been the last defiance of a dying beast. My strike was enough to put him down. His frenzied wing beats slowed, faltered, and stopped. 

He plummeted. The force of his descent ripped his ragged wings up, yanking the sword out of his neck. A plume of blood gushed from the wound, spiralling around his corpse as he fell, forming a darkly beautiful helix with the white-gold Dovah energy leaving his body. 

The flesh was gone before his bones hit the ground. Zooming in, I saw them smash on the broken rubble of the ruined S.H.I.E.L.D base.

“Stark!” Wanda’s magic-augmented shout rang in my ears. “It’s a diversion! The dragons, they –”

Her voice cut off, turning into a grunt of pain and then silence. I looked up, frantically searching the area where I’d last seen her.

Her limp body tumbled out of the sky.

I dived without thinking, chasing after her like a hound after a hare. Dissolving the broadsword, I caught her in both arms before she’d fallen more than a hundred feet. A bright crimson network of marks, like the branches of a tree, covered her neck and traced over the side of her face. _Shit._ That looked like lightning damage.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y?”

“She’s still alive, boss, but unconscious –”

I heard something crackle behind and below me. Instinct made me duck aside. A lightning bolt surged past, each blinding-white tine tinged with purple, leaving floating after-images in my eyes.

“God, what _now?_ ” I yelled, scanning for fresh danger. No sign of Alduin. No other dragons. “Are you fucking _kidding_ me?”

Fifteen or twenty black-robed figures lined the high ground on either side of the valley. Each carried a gnarled wooden staff. I flashed back to London, back to the news report I’d watched with Wanda and Fury. 

I let out a snarl of rage. _Richard Montgomery._ Whatever had happened to him, these were his people, his fucking _dragon cultists,_ and if he was with them –

Another lightning bolt streaked through the air a few feet away from me, redirecting my anger into a survival instinct. I gained altitude, piling power into the foot repulsors as I clutched Wanda tight.

“Come on,” I said, slapping the side of her face in a futile effort to get her to wake up. “Come on, honey, I could do with a hand here –”

“Boss, she needs urgent medical attention!” F.R.I.D.A.Y interrupted.

“Don’t… call me… _honey…_ ”

Wanda’s voice was thin and thready, her breaths irregular, but her eyes fluttered open.

“There we go,” I said, keeping an eye on the cultists below. I thought – I _hoped_ – we were out of range of those staff bolts. “There we go. Can you fight?”

Her eyes tried to focus on me. Crimson energy crackled in her gaze, almost making me drop her, but I faced down the confused anger in that stare and held on. It wasn’t directed at me.

At least, I hoped like hell it wasn’t directed at me.

She said something in her own language. At my look of confusion, she shook her head, then pressed a hand to her forehead.

“I can fight,” she said. Her voice sounded stronger. “They took me surprise. That won’t happen again.”

“You, ah, you’re burned –”

“Can’t feel it,” she interrupted. “Later someone’s going to have to take me to a hospital, but right now I’m supressing it.”

“Is that –”

“Sensible, wise, prudent? No.” Crimson light gathered around her hands. “Will I pay a price for this later?” Her hair rose around her head like a halo, and I let her go, putting space between us. Her magic kept her aloft. “Yes. Everything has a price. Now duck.”

I obeyed without question, letting myself drop ten feet. A lightning bolt ripped the air between us. 

“Go find Alduin!” she urged. “I’ve got this!”

“There’s at least twenty guys down there!”

“Yes, thank you, I can count!” 

The scattered Quinjets were regrouping. Wanda would have to face the cultists alone. I had no idea what kind of powers they were packing, but I had to trust that Wanda knew her abilities and knew how hard she could push herself.

“Good luck,” I said. “You see that Montgomery asshole, knock his head in for me, will ya?”

“I’ll tell him you said ‘hello’.”

She angled down to the waiting cultists, vengeful crimson fire exploding from her hands. I didn’t wait to see the fight unfold; I went up, way up, away from the clamour and distraction of the battle below. Alduin was still here. Still concealed. He felt like a knot of pain inside my chest, an ever-present ache that pulsed beside the Dovah energy, each vying for my attention. 

Well, now I was listening. Or… feeling. I closed my eyes, hovering in the air, trying to hold on to that awareness of him. Trying to follow, if I could. I turned in a slow circle, palm repulsors controlling the direction and speed, playing an arcane version of ‘hot or cold’. Yeah… that feeling was faint, but it was over _there._

I opened my eyes. Off in the distance… the air seemed a little distorted, as if viewed through a heat haze. Was he watching me? Or watching Wanda? One way to find out.

I activated the shoulder-mounted rockets. Six compact, powerful missiles streaked through the air. When they reached the shimmering patch of air, they exploded as if they’d hit a solid wall. 

The shimmer deepened. Then it vanished. I sped toward it, not waiting until Alduin became visible, knowing he was there and determined not to give him time to react. I called the broadsword again and the second, the very _second_ he became visible, I swung for his neck.

Alduin’s tail lashed out, smacking into me as he turned his body away. The impact knocked me back but I was already compensating, the repulsors correcting my course before it turned into a wild tumble. I shifted and swooped right back in.

“ _Faas-Ru-Maar!_ ”

I expected Alduin’s Shout and reacted precious seconds before the energy hit. I swerved straight up, body straining to maintain the steep trajectory as I fought my body’s own aches and pains. The Shout missed by inches.

Alduin lunged but missed, claws scraping over the suit, raising sparks. I kept my course and rose above him, turning to use a Shout of my own.

“ _Jaar-Zah-Frul._ ”

Energy left me in a whisper, sliding through the air as smooth as silk. Alduin was too close to evade. The azure-blue clutch of Dragonrend hit him full-on.

He made no sound. His wings folded limply along his back and he dropped. I followed him down, keeping a sensible distance back, hoping the impact force would kill him but certain he’d catch himself before he hit. Sure enough, his wings snapped out a couple hundred feet from the ground, stopping his wild plunge and levelling him out. 

His immense black shadow raced across the battle below. For the first time I was able to spare a second to find Wanda, and there she was, hovering thirty feet in the air, surrounded by a crackling nimbus of crimson light. The cultists were using their staffs to blast her; bolts of lightning hit the globe, bam-bam-bam-bam, but they seemed to dissipate harmlessly around the shell.

As I watched – most of my attention still on Alduin – tendrils of scarlet light erupted from the globe, crackling through the air. Each tendril wrapped around a cultist. Squeezed… squeezed… _squeezed_ until they popped like an over-ripe grape.

Alduin roared and I was glad to look away. He was climbing again, but the flap of his wings was laboured, and I knew my Shout had weakened him. Was Dragonrend a one-off thing, or were the effects cumulative? Arngeir hadn’t said and I’d had no real time to think about it. If they _were_ cumulative, Alduin had already taken a couple of hits. What would it take to ground him completely? 

A streak of lightning hit the suit, knocking me ass over kettle. I corrected and gained altitude, streaking after Alduin and hopefully getting out of range of those staffs. He’d hoped his bully-boys would kill me if his dragon pals hadn’t been enough.

A huge portal opened some distance away, electric purple and rippling like liquid. Alduin was powering toward it, wings pumping, neck straining and my _God_ , I would not let him escape again. I let out a barrage of missiles, managing to knock him off course, then directed extra speed to the repulsors. I aimed the broadsword at his unprotected flank –

He turned to snap at me, massive jaws gaping. I rolled out of the way, jabbing the sword out, hoping my wild thrust would hit home. I managed to score a deep cut along the side of his neck. He roared and lunged again but I was already moving away, using his slipstream to roll underneath him. It was risky as hell but it brought me close enough to his belly to drive the sword deep.

Alduin’s bellow of pain was music to my ears, but when one huge clawed back foot kicked me, my triumph was short-lived. The suit absorbed most – but not all – of the impact. My ribs let out a warning throb.

By the time I’d managed to stop my crazy spin Alduin had put distance between us. I routed more power to the thrusters, dissolving the broadsword to give myself more power, keeping him fixed in my sight. I couldn’t let him escape again, I just _couldn’t –_

Another bolt of lightning hit the suit. A second. A third. Each bolt knocked me off course. The suit deflected the full force of the attacks, and I was glad all over again I’d built electrical resistance into the new design, but those few seconds were all it took for Alduin to gain a lead.

“More speed, F.R.I.D.A.Y!”

“We can’t increase quickly enough to catch him.”

“ _No!_ ” I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t. I released another barrage of missiles, hoping to slow him down. Each missile hit home. He writhed and screamed, but it was too late: - he disappeared through the portal. It was closing –

I streaked after him, mindless to almost anything except the need to follow. For a single second I thought about Stephen – how much I loved him, how much I’d come to rely on his support – then shot through the portal.

Because in the end, the _Dovahkiin_ was always alone.


	40. 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Sovngarde, Tony and Alduin fight.

I emerged into terrain that looked familiar. Misty hills growing into mountains, a hazy grey sky stretching into forever. A valley, but not the one I’d left behind. This one was long and shallow. Wide. Lush with grass and criss-crossed with streams. The only structure I saw was a massive wooden building a mile or so down the valley. 

_Wait…_ Viking-style mead hall… huge bridge that looked as if it was made from the bones of some giant creature…

“Christ,” I muttered, recalling what Stephen had told me. “Is this _Sovngarde?_ ”

I let out a burbling, half-hysterical laugh. I was in the after-life of another world. Heaven, Hell, Paradise, Limbo, who the fuck knew? Was I dead? Had I left my body back in the Mojave Desert? Was I even real anymore? Fevered thoughts ran through my head, each one knocking aside the one before. I couldn’t catch any long enough to think about it properly, couldn’t stem the rush long enough to get a grip –

“ _Fus-Ro-Dah!_ ”

Alduin’s Shout caught me square on. I tumbled through the air, too fast to stop my wild fall, and slammed into the side of a mountain. Agony rippled through my body. My ribs – already jostled, already bruised – crunched, and I knew I’d cracked something.

I was falling, tumbling in a shower of broken rocks and debris, too stunned to take control. Luckily, I didn’t have to – the repulsors were still firing and they carried me higher, giving me a couple seconds grace to shake off the little dragons circling my head. I became aware of F.R.I.D.A.Y shouting in my ear, trying to get my attention.

“I’m alright,” I said. “I’m alright, dial it down, sheesh.” My ribs were screaming. I breathed hard, trying to control my reaction, trying to push the pain away.

“So sorry for being concerned for your welfare!” She really wasn’t sorry, and we both knew that.

“I love you too.” I was scanning the sky, looking for Alduin. 

The portal had closed. No way home, but that didn’t matter right now. I brushed my fingers over the ARC reactor – just a quick, fleeting touch – and readied a program I’d never had an occasion to think about using. 

A program that initiated a self-destruct in the reactor. 

This was the third chance to kill Alduin I’d never expected to get, so whatever happened… this would be his last stand. Or mine.

Again I thought of Stephen. I wished I’d had the opportunity to see him again. To thread my fingers through his hair, drag his face down to mine, and kiss him until all sanity left. 

_Hell._ I was in Sovngarde, about to face off with a dragon called the World-Eater, with no back-up. Sanity had already left.

I called up the nanite sword again, using the neural interface to make the blade even thicker and heavier. Alduin was a small black speck against the grey-blue sky. Was he running? Planning a hop to yet another dimension? I wasn’t going to allow that. I would follow him across the Multiverse if that was what it took to bring him down.

I got on his trail and stayed there, setting his wings against my repulsors. I didn’t see any more portals, no handy bolt-holes to escape through. There was no way he could out-run me now.

He banked, veering to the right, long neck curling to Shout at me again. I rolled out of the way. His Unrelenting Force passed harmlessly to one side. I lunged in with the sword, aiming for his flank, but one sweep of his wings knocked me out of the way. Pain flared through my ribs and radiated out through my whole torso. It faded under a rush of adrenaline as I came up again, slicing at his tail with a single two-handed chop.

The blade sheared through scales, flesh, and bone, cutting off the last four or five feet of his tail. He screamed – a high-pitched shriek of agony, of utter incomprehension – and climbed higher. 

I followed, avoiding the spray of blood from the wound, grimly satisfied that I’d bloodied him again. He was big and powerful, but I was small and fast, and I was absolutely going to use that. I ducked in close, slicing his flank, his underbelly, his back, leaving a dozen deep cuts that bled profusely. I aimed for his wings as much as I could, but he guarded them with ferociously snapping jaws.

_How long has it been since you’ve actually had to fight?_ I wondered, rolling aside to avoid yet another bite. I had to end this, quick, before I ran out of steam. My ribs weren’t going to let me play for too much longer. _How long since you set your teeth and claws against another dragon?_ He relied on his Shouts, and his cultists, to get what he wanted.

Alduin’s sudden downward plunge caught me by surprise. He’d folded his wings tight against his body, plummeting through the air, clearly hoping to shake me off. But I stayed with him, matching his speed, knowing he’d have to pull up way before I did – he was bigger, bulkier, and needed more space. I hoped that he’d fail, that he’d smash into the ground before he was able to pull out of his dive, but as the thought crossed my mind he was already spreading his wings and levelling out.

His head snaked back. He Shouted again, the words lost in the roar of the wind, but closely followed by a gout of flame. It flowed harmlessly over the suit but obscured my vision. I shot up, gaining height to get out of the plume, realising too late Alduin had used it as a distraction.

His jaws clamped around my leg with crushing force. The bone nanites cushioned the worst of it, but not enough – pain speared through my leg, quickly rising to an agonising pitch, making me yell.

Sweating and snarling, I swung my sword around, a clumsy one-handed blow that lacked full force. The heavy blade gouged a deep cut through his face. He growled but didn’t let me go. I swung again. The sword caught the bottom edge of one massive eye. 

The crimson orb collapsed, splattering me with thick, viscous fluid. Alduin’s scream was so loud the suit couldn’t filter it all out; pain ripped through my ears, the dampness on my earlobes telling me they were bleeding. His jaws – already clamped tight – bore down with enough savage force to crush my leg. His teeth gouged through the nanites, driving them deep into my flesh.

The bones didn’t just broke, they shattered.

The pain was so intense I felt my mind hover on the edge of shut down. I _wanted_ that oblivion, wanted it so bad I knew it would only take a whisper of willpower to let go. To fall into that blank pit. 

I pictured Stephen’s face. The way he looked after the first time I’d kissed him. 

_Fuck_ Alduin. Fuck this dimension. Fuck the Multiverse. I’d do anything – _anything_ – to keep Stephen alive. Trembling, I moved my free hand over the ARC reactor. 

We would go out with an explosion they’d talk about in Sovngarde forever. 

But I hesitated. The Dovah energy inside me, that wellspring of white-gold light, was still pulsing, and it reminded me that an option existed other than mutual destruction. 

Time seemed to stretch out, a single liquid moment elongating like a river into eternity. 

“ _Jaar-Zah-Frul._ ” 

The Shout was a whisper of blue energy breathed into his bloody, broken face. 

His wings collapsed. He let out a single sound of dismay, clearly straining to get his wings open, but the cumulative force of Dragonrend was too much – he began to plummet, taking me with him.

The fall seemed to take forever. Time was still liquid yet at the same time crystal clear. I saw everything; saw the way Alduin’s blood splattered and sprayed as we fell; the way he tumbled end over end, gaining speed. I felt as if I was stepping outside of my own body, watching it being jerked around like a ragdoll. He was going to hit the ground like a meteor and so was I.

Seeing myself – or imagining I saw myself – even for that split second, was enough to snap me out of my agony-induced fugue. But with the return of awareness came the awareness of pain. I used it as a weapon, as a tool, breathing hard, feeding the Dovah flame, finally letting out a scream of rage and pain and defiance. 

White-gold flames erupted from my hands, quickly coating the suit. I dissolved the sword and closed my eyes, concentrating on the rage inside me. The defiance. I fanned the flames and channelled my power into something I was certain had never been seen before.

The ground was rising up. Alduin’s struggles became more panicked, but his spiralling descent was out of control. I set my hands into his jaws and heaved, using the suit’s strength and whatever crazy Dovah energy was sustaining me, wrenching his mouth open enough that his teeth ripped out of my wrecked leg. I fed the fresh agony back into myself.

Power grew inside me, boiling like a lava pool until it exploded in a crescendo of light and heat. I broke free of Alduin’s bite a few seconds before he slammed into the ground, climbing higher and higher, soaring into the sky.

The flames wreathing my body had taken a shape. I stretched my arms out, seeing that beautiful golden energy form wide, powerful wings. I didn’t just have the soul of a dragon, I had the flesh of one too, a mantle of pure energy that burned and shone more brightly than the hottest conflagration. I saw myself again from the outside, saw the sleek lines of my Dovah self, the long tail, the sinuous neck, the mighty head. 

I felt the life bleeding out of Alduin’s broken, beaten body. It took almost a minute for him to die. I hovered in the sky, watching him take his last breaths, his shattered form twitching and flopping like a bird hit by a car.

He raised his head just enough so that he could look up, focussing his one remaining eye on me.

“ _I am… eternal,_ ” he struggled to say, his exhausted voice carried by magic and nothing else.

“ _And I am Iron Man._ ” The words resonated inside me. For a moment I felt as if reality was shifting. As if I had spoken those words before, in front of another mad giant, in another world. That I would _always_ speak those words to _someone,_ and that in some form, I would always win this battle. My bones vibrated. The air shimmered, and a rising sense of power – of _rightness_ – welled up from deep inside.

Alduin let out a single gurgling laugh, then died.

As his collapsing corpse caught fire and began to burn, energy rose from him like mist from a river, soft golden motes rising through the air. They streamed together, forming tendrils of light, each one reaching for me as if it yearned to be a part of me. When it touched my dragon-form aura, when it began to sink inside me, to become a _part_ of me, it felt so good I could have cried. This was who I was. This was who I was supposed to be. This was the missing part I’d never known was missing.

The flow of energy stopped. Nothing was left of Alduin but titanic bones, the only monument to his influence I would ever allow. It was fitting; Alduin had died _here,_ in Sovngarde, the realm of the dead.

I threw my head back and Shouted, channelling energy into a wordless yell that had no concrete effect. But I knew, without a scrap of doubt, that it would be felt across the entire Multiverse. I Shouted my triumph, my victory, wings spread wide, revelling in my own power. 

Dimly heard – travelling across eons of space and time – came the trumpeting roar of all other Dovah as they acknowledged my ascension. 

~~&~~

Eventually, the roars died away to nothing. I gave Alduin’s bones a single dismissive glance, then moved my wings, turning to fly away. 

There was a voice in my ear. Insistent. The words were nothing more than a low drone. Easily ignored. 

Where to go next? I could make Sovngarde my home. My kingdom. In time I would learn how to open a portal; already I had some understanding of how Alduin had done it, of the way he’d manipulated energy to form a conduit between two places. Once I could do that, I could go anywhere.

Something bobbed around in the back of my head. A face. A feeling. A kiss. A scent. But I couldn’t quite put my claw on what they meant. I felt that they were important, but I couldn’t work out how. And right now it didn’t matter, because I wanted to visit the large structure I saw off in the distance. Again, I couldn’t put my claw on why this was important, but it felt like something I had to do.

Following my whim, I aimed for the building and landed on the bridge outside. I folded my wings tight along my back. Something was wrong with my leg – it was stiff and didn’t react too well to my commands – and my ribs felt odd. But they were distant concerns. 

I concentrated on crossing the long, wide bridge. It was made from the bones of my kin, each of the spans a single rib bone. It was both wildly distasteful and hugely appropriate. When I glanced down between the spans, I saw a vast gorge, so deep I could barely see the bottom. Dimly I heard the rush of water.

I took a moment to study the huge wooden building, taking in the thick support posts and curving roof. Carvings seemed to cover every inch of wood, scenes of Men and Mer and Dovah. 

The face in the back of my mind was beginning to move forward, to take on more significance. I recognised that face. I knew him. I just… couldn’t recall the details right now.

As I approached the building, the massive double doors swung open to reveal a vast feasting hall. Men and women sat around large tables, eating and drinking, talking, laughing.

I wanted to be a part of that so badly it burned. It felt _right_ to be here, so right I wasn’t sure I wanted to leave. The call of the Multiverse was strong, pulling at my bones, but this place? It pulled at my heart.

“You need to go home, Tony.”

I turned to see a human man approaching. The people feasting deeper in the hall all wore fur and leather and metal armour, but he wore jeans and a simple T-shirt. I recognised him – recognised that he was a warrior – but I just… couldn’t think of his name.

“What I _need_ is a place at that table,” I said, nodding toward the feasting men and women.

“This is the realm of the dead.” He gave an awkward shrug. “You’re not dead, not yet, but if you stay here you will be.”

“I’m the most powerful being in the Multiverse.”

The man laughed. “You’re a ball of energy inside a human shell. And that human shell is currently bleeding to death. Your leg’s a mangled mess and if you’re not real careful one of your ribs is going to puncture a lung.”

I understood every single one of his words, but the meaning escaped me. 

“I want to stay here,” I said.

“Stephen’s waiting for you outside.” The man slung his arm around my shoulders, guiding me back toward the door. “Across the bridge. Tell him Bruce said hi. Oh, and I’ve got a message from some chick called Gormlaith.”

“Yeah?” Like the man’s face, I recognised these names, but I couldn’t think who they were. White-gold energy burned in my mind, making it impossible to see the connections my recollections were trying to show me. 

“She says you beat her with the dragons, but she’s up for an arm wrestle.”

~~&~~

I stood outside the feasting hall, the door firmly closed behind me. I looked up at the huge wooden slats, frustrated. I should be in there. 

Well, I could always come back.

I turned around. A man stood on the bridge, an orange-ringed portal a few feet behind him. He seemed so familiar that the sight of him tugged at my brain, my heart, and every single fucking point between. The Dovah energy swirled restlessly around me. I wanted to spread my wings, snatch him up and fly away.

Instead I walked out to meet him. The man in the hall had told me something was wrong with my leg, and it certainly felt odd – no pain, but it was still stiff, still unresponsive.

We met on the bridge. His eyes were wide and open, staring at me with something like wonder. Or horror. His lips were parted. They seemed dry and a little cracked, and I found I wanted to kiss him. To run my fingers through his dark hair, to tug on those bands of silver-grey at his temples.

_…claws, not fingers…_

To trail burning kisses along the line of his neck.

To sink my teeth into the thin flesh over his collarbone, leaving tiny, shallow bite marks.

_…fangs, bite him, eat him, own him…_

To flick my tongue over his pale, beautiful skin, to find the stiffened peak of each deliciously pink nipple –

To love him –

To _be_ loved by him –

_…human, you’re human, not dragon, not Dovah, you’re_ human…

“ _Stephen._ ” The word was a choked moan, and with it, the incandescent energy gripping my mind finally relaxed. I felt my wings dissolve, saw the golden motes of light float away from me and vanish. My dragon form shrank, contracted back into the small, familiar knot just behind my chest.

Agony ripped through my body. My _leg,_ fuck, my ribs. Each breath was an effort, rattling in my throat. F.R.I.D.A.Y was yelling in my ear.

I collapsed, gratefully letting go of consciousness. Stephen caught me.


	41. 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Tony is recovering, he discusses his experiences with Stephen and Wanda. In his turn, Stephen tells Tony about the ritual to stop Hermaeus Mora.

When I came around, I felt like ass. Worse than ass. My mouth was dry. My eyes were gummy. My throat was so parched it felt as if l was swallowing sand. My head pounded. Every single fucking muscle and sinew in my body throbbed and ached. Pain rippled through my leg. Through my ribs.

But I was sitting up in a bed, cool sheets tucked around me, soft pillows under my head and shoulders. 

_Alive._

_You’re alive._

Images tumbled past my closed lids. Memories. Feelings. 

_Air currents beneath my wings…_

_The knowledge of complete superiority…_

I struggled to process it all, struggled to understand what had happened. What I’d done.

What I’d become.

I didn’t want to open my eyes. That meant facing up to who I was, when the truth was I had no fucking clue anymore. Human, Dovah, who knew?

But I opened them anyway, because I wanted to see Stephen. I wanted that even more than I wanted to breathe.

I was in the medical suite at the Compound. The light seemed too bright, making me squint until my eyes adjusted. Stephen was in a chair next to the bed, reading a battered old paperback book, one long leg crossed over the other. 

He was wearing his usual blue tunic and pants. The over-tunic was draped over the back of the chair. He’d ditched the belts. A flash of red in the corner of the room was the Cloak of Levitation, hovering disconsolately in the corner of the room.

“Who am I?” I croaked, filled with a painful rush of emotion. “ _What_ am I?” It hurt to talk. Maybe that last Shout had damaged my throat. 

I felt the hot rush of tears down the side of my face. I tried to wipe them away, but I could barely lift my arms. I let them flop back down to the bed.

Stephen jumped, the book snapping shut in his trembling hands. He dropped it, immediately pulling his chair forward so he could lean over the bed.

“You’re a crazy bastard,” he said, fumbling for my hand. He squeezed so hard it hurt, but in the sea of other pains it barely registered. More important was the contact of his skin against mine. His warmth. His presence.

“I’m…” I could barely see now, looking out through a film of moisture.

“You’re Tony Stark.” Close up, I realised that Stephen’s face was pale and drawn, the lines of his face more pronounced than usual. “You’re a human being. An _extraordinary_ human being. You’re a complete and utter douchebag. And you’re the man I love.”

That was enough. I let the certainty, the power, of his affection wash over me. Absorbed the strength of his grip.

“Love you,” I mumbled.

“Go back to sleep.” His trembling thumb stroked over my knuckles.

Sleep sounded great right now. I let that feeling follow me down.

~~&~~

When I woke again, I knew exactly who I was. I still remembered the uncertainty, the fear that I couldn’t understand what parts of me were real, but it almost felt like a dream. Something that would fade away, regardless of how hard I thought about it. 

That was good. I wanted that uncertainty to fade.

I took stock of my injuries. Leg? Covered in a light-weight lattice cast, propped under cushions, and probably fucked all to hell if the pain was anything to go by. Ribs? I peeked under the hospital gown. Yeah, something was fucked there, too, judging by the vicious purple bruises that spread across my chest. It hurt to breathe. It felt like there were a million other bruises covering my body.

Aside from the debris lodged in my chest that had necessitated the very first ARC reactor, this was the most damage I’d ever taken from an encounter. I wasn’t just lucky to be alive, it was a goddamned miracle.

When I looked around, I didn’t see Stephen, but I could see he’d been here recently – the chair was still pulled up close to the bed, and his book was on the floor.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y?” I called tentatively.

“I’m not talking to you.” Her voice was cold and, I thought, strained.

“You’re talking right now.”

“Only to tell you that I’m not.”

I thought back over my fight with Alduin, trying to figure out why she was mad with me. It was too much of a blur.

“Alright,” I sighed. “What have I done to piss you off?”

“I couldn’t stop you.” The ice was cracking. “You’d sustained such serious injuries that the ‘Home’ function was activated, but your neural interface over-rode it.”

I sifted through my memories again. I vaguely recalled a voice shouting in my ear. Had that been her?

“God, I’m sorry. I think… man.” I shook my head. “I think I kind of checked out for a while after I killed Alduin. I didn’t even know I _could_ over-ride the ‘Home’ function.”

“I’ve added it to the next upgrade cycle.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y… thank you. For everything.” This wasn’t just her programming. I’d stopped thinking of her as a simple AI a long time ago. She’d evolved, was _still_ evolving. In every way that mattered to me, she was alive.

“Yes, well.” She made a deliberate sniffing noise, and I relaxed. If I was getting that disapproving Irish sniff, I was half-way to being forgiven. “I’ve informed Stephen that you’re awake.”

“Is he bringing coffee?” I asked hopefully.

“I’m bringing my damned self,” Stephen growled from the doorway. “If that’s not enough for you, then that’s too bad.”

“You know you could just open a little portal right there,” I said, pointing beside him. “Reach right through…”

Then I fell silent. He didn’t speak. We spent long moments just staring at each other. He looked so fucking good. A few buttons on his under-tunic were open, giving me a peek of his chest, and the sleeves were rolled up. The hair on his arms seemed very dark against his pale skin. His normally immaculate beard was fuzzy around the edges, and his hair was rumpled. 

I swallowed hard. Held out a hand. Without hesitation he crossed the space between us and sat on the edge of the bed, gripping my hand in his. I brought it to my lips and kissed his knuckles.

“You scared the shit out of me, you dick,” he said, but there was no fire behind his words. He didn’t let go of my hand. “I got out of that ritual to discover you’d gone off to be a hero in the desert. Only when I got there, I found Wanda venting her anger issues on those dragon cultists. What I _didn’t_ find was you.”

“How did you figure out where I was?” My eyes flicked over his face, taking in every muscle twitch, every blink. 

“Magic, idiot.” He rolled his eyes.

He’d come into another world to find me. To bring me home. That… that meant something. 

It meant _everything._

“That place…” I cleared my throat and tried again. “Arngeir called Sovngarde the realm of the dead. He wasn’t kidding.”

“It’s just a metaphor,” Stephen said, shaking his head. “A Nord myth –”

“I saw Bruce.”

Stephen stared at me, eyes wide with shock.

“Tony…”

“It wasn’t a hallucination,” I said. “I didn’t dream it. I’m not making it up. I went into that hall, I wanted to go sit down at the tables and feast with the others, but he wouldn’t let me. And he gave me a message from Gormlaith.” 

His eyes widened further. “Can you tell me exactly what you saw? What you experienced?”

I described everything I could recall. The huge hall, the massive wooden doors, the long tables inside, groaning with food. The men and women enjoying the feast.

“I didn’t see any of those things,” Stephen said. He’d got his surprise under control, but now he looked troubled. “When I stood on the bridge, all I saw was black space. A void.”

We stared at each other. The look in his eyes told me we were both considering the same thing: - because Sovngarde was a realm of the dead, and I had seen things, _experienced_ things, that he had not… I think I’d been a little closer to the wrong side of the bridge than either of us wanted to admit.

“A void, huh?” I said eventually, to break the tense silence.

“You were this… this shining beacon.” It wasn’t often he stumbled over his words, but that’s what he was doing now. “You looked…”

“Go on.”

“Magnificent,” he said, his voice a soft, reverent murmur. “Like some kind of god. You were covered in living flames. And the wings…” He closed his eyes, as if he could picture me more clearly with them closed. “You wore the skin of a Dovah king.”

“I… I think I was a king,” I said hesitantly. It felt arrogant to say those words, but I believed they were true. “For those few minutes after I killed Alduin, I was the most powerful Dovah in the Multiverse. I Shouted, and they answered. They all answered.”

He opened his eyes. There was no disbelief in his searching gaze.

“Tell me what happened?” he asked softly. 

I loved that it was a question, not a demand. For this, for all the other important things between us, he was giving me the choice.

He’d been on this crazy ride with me since the beginning. He deserved the full truth.

I told him everything. Every action, every feeling. It was… satisfying, I guess, to recall those experiences, as if by speaking them it could bleed away some of the pain and confusion. 

“When he bit me, I kind of went… I don’t know, something happened in my head,” I explained. It was hard to put those moments into words. But I tried. “Whether it was the pain, or knowing I was about to die, or… Christ, I don’t know. But it was like everything crystallised inside me. Or… exploded? I don’t know.”

Stephen’s expression was thoughtful. “An explosion of energy. It’s possible your heightened combat state triggered a higher form of Dovah energy…”

“Yeah, work out the math on your own time,” I grumbled.

“Oh, I will.” His grin was endearing, not that I wasn’t already completely endeared. 

“What do _you_ think was going on with that feasting hall?”

“I think,” he said carefully, “that there are a great many things in the Multiverse which I do not yet comprehend. It was wrong of me to dismiss your statement. If you say you saw Bruce, talked to him, then I believe you. Though I’d be lying if I said the implications of that didn’t scare the hell out of me.” He tilted his head to one side. “What was Gormlaith’s message?”

“Huh?”

“You just said Bruce asked her to give you a message…”

“Oh.” The conversation was draining the little energy I’d regained, and I knew I’d have to rest soon, but like a toddler I didn’t want to go nap-nap. “She said she was totally down for an arm wrestle.”

Stephen’s unexpected laugh was the best sound I’d heard for days.

~~&~~

He made me rest. I gave in with bad grace, but a couple hours later, I felt more alert. He came back with coffee and I guzzled it so quickly I almost burned my tongue. I didn’t ask about my injuries – in the long list of things we had to talk about, they seemed unimportant to me – but I knew it was a conversation we’d have later. I still hurt too much to put it off for long.

As I drank, Stephen gave me the low-down on the ritual he’d used to block our universe from Hermaeus Mora’s sight. He’d needed the combined might of his entire faculty and student body to pull off that kind of working, and it left them all drained. 

“It worked?” I asked.

“We must assume so.” He sounded wary, and I wondered just how confident he was with this particular spell. “Neither of us has had any further encounters with Hermaeus. That doesn’t mean I won’t be keeping my eyes open.”

“You gonna tell Wanda about him?” I asked.

“We’ve already spoken. She spent some time here, while I was waiting for you to finish your beauty sleep.”

“That’s good.” I think we both understood that although Wanda worked for Fury, she wasn’t going to allow herself to be his puppet. What Stephen told her wouldn’t necessarily reach Fury’s ears, and I was pretty sure Hermie was one secret she’d keep to herself. “Is she OK after that fight?” I shouldn’t have just left her like that, but she’d been so insistent.

“She has some scars,” he admitted. “And she tapped herself dry for a few days, but she’ll recover.” His smile was fleeting and gone in a moment. “She wants to talk to you. When you’re ready.”

I grimaced. “If she wants to come yell at me, that’s OK. I deserve it.”

~~&~~

Turned out yelling was the last thing on her mind.

“That fight was _incredible!_ ” she said, leaning forward in the seat Stephen had vacated by the bed. A network of silver-white lines covered her neck and part of the side of her face, scarring from the lightning bolt; she’d assured me it would fade, in time, but added that magical damage like that would never truly heal. “Fury got it on camera, all the Quinjets are equipped with recording equipment. I’ve already watched it back a half dozen times.” Her eyes were bright, cheeks flushed. This was far from the anger I’d expected. “I think I’m going to leak it to the media. The world needs to know what you’ve done.”

“Wasn’t just me,” I replied, uncomfortable with her praise. There was a time – not so long ago – when I would have lapped it up, and expected it from everyone else. I wasn’t that person anymore.

“You killed four dragons!” She shook her head, rolling her eyes. “ _Five_ dragons! In one day!”

“And you took on a whole bunch of brainwashed magic-using cultists,” I fired back. “Credit where it’s due, honey.” I winced. “Sorry.” Her sour smile told me my apology was appreciated. “Did you get Montgomery?”

Her smile widened, became more satisfied. “Richard Montgomery – or what’s left of him – is languishing in a supermax cell.”

“What do you mean, what’s left of him?”

“Alduin broke his mind.” The smile vanished, as if she’d just realised she was doing it, and it made her feel guilty. Something darker spread across her face. “I spent some time with him, walking through the ruined halls inside his head. Trying to get a sense of his fears.”

My jaw clenched. I understood what she wasn’t saying. That by finding his fears, she’d hoped to exploit them, to manipulate him the way she’d manipulated the Avengers. I should have realised it was a trick she wouldn’t give up. It was a weapon – a horrible, awful one – but when you were fighting, you had to use the weapons at your disposal.

“What did you find?” I asked, trying to keep my tone level. Knowing I’d done a poor job.

“Nothing.” Her voice was as bleak now as the expression that crossed her face. “There’s nothing left inside him. No fears. No hopes or dreams or terrors. Alduin ravaged his mind and left him a husk.” The horror in her eyes was easy to see. Seeing what Alduin could do was the ultimate expression of what she herself could achieve, of what she could push for if she took the brakes off. “He’s an empty shell. He can barely look after himself. I knew when you’d killed Alduin, because Montgomery just… he dropped.”

I pictured it. The ruined battlefield, the wrecked S.H.I.E.L.D base. Dragon bones scattered across the ground. Men and women, faceless under their hoods, collapsing after their strings had been cut.

That wasn’t how I’d wanted us to catch Montgomery. Incarceration meant shit if you didn’t have enough of yourself left to understand you were being punished. But the look we shared told me Wanda had learned a lesson I’d learned early on – we didn’t get to choose how our victories panned out, and that even if you were able to get up and walk away from a fight… it didn’t mean you’d won.


	42. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Stephen deal with the aftermath of Tony’s injuries. They open a portal for Arngeir to return home.

Alduin had broken my leg. Not just broken it, but shattered both the tibia and fibula, his teeth shearing through the bones in multiple places. I was lucky he hadn’t just bitten the fucking thing off, though I’d argue the level of pain I had to deal with now wasn’t exactly lucky. My walk across the bridge to the feasting hall, and then back again, had fucked it up even more. That walk had been powered solely by magic, the energy of a Dovah sustaining the limb and blocking out pain.

I was paying for it now. Most of the breaks had been set, but I still had a string of operations stretching out in front of me before I could even hope to walk again, and there’d be months of physio.

I’d got lucky with my ribs, too. I’d broken one and fractured a couple more. I’d come close to puncturing a lung – closer than I ever wanted to be – and had sustained a lot of internal soft tissue damage. Iron Man was going to be out of action for a long time.

But that didn’t mean Tony Stark didn’t have a crap-ton of things to do. I built myself a motorised wheel-chair as soon as Stephen gave into my ceaseless complaints and got me into the lab. It was lightweight, super-strong, and stuffed with as many nanite gadgets (and a few weapons) as I could fit in there.

Fury gave me a couple days’ grace before he started demanding to be debriefed. I let him stew for a couple more days after that, judging from each increasingly angry call just how much time I had left before he decided another home visit was in order. 

I finally let F.R.I.D.A.Y connect his calls, tuned out during his ear-bashing, then gave him an edited version of events. I left out how I’d felt through that final fight and omitted completely the flame-skin I’d worn. I still didn’t understand it, but the triumph I’d felt was still hot in my memory. 

I left out the feasting hall part completely. That was a secret of the Multiverse I didn’t want to share with someone whose mind was still firmly on Earth.

But I told Wanda everything, hoping it could help her with H.E.X. And I told Peter, too. We were looking at the same job from different ends of our career; they were still starting out, learning who they were. I’d learned exactly who I was… often in excruciating detail. 

I’d also learned who I wasn’t. That was just as important.

~~&~~

“Come back with me,” Stephen said, a few hours after I’d got the wheelchair motorised and was testing it around the lab. I was still trying to come to terms with the fact that I wasn’t going to be up and running any time soon. I’d taken injuries – and plenty of ‘em – but none as bad as this. I was coping with the pain in my own way (mostly by distracting myself with the wheelchair) but I refused to take painkillers. I’d been out of my head so much recently I was determined to stay in it as much as I could.

I gave him a suspicious look. “Back?” I asked. “As in… back to the future? Back to life? Back to reality?” At his rolling eyes, I added, “Back to the womb? Cus buddy, I gotta tell ya, there’s a few problems with that –”

“Back to the Sanctum,” he interrupted, face creasing with concern. “You’re loopier than usual. How many pills have you taken?”

“None at all.”

“Tony –”

“Don’t want ‘em,” I insisted.

“If this is some crazy attempt to punish yourself for not killing Alduin sooner…” He trailed off.

I flinched. Couldn’t help it. Guilt hadn’t been anywhere in my conscious mind, but when he said aloud, I realised that I _did_ feel guilty. Objectively I knew I’d done everything I could, whenever I had the opportunity, but subjectively? Yeah, I should have stopped Alduin in London. I should have stopped him in the Mojave Desert.

“I don’t want painkillers,” I said quietly. 

His eyes played over my face. “Alright. But _will_ you come back to the Sanctum with me?”

“You sure you want me there?” I asked. The guilt was giving way to a familiar self-loathing. I wasn’t exactly a cripple, but I was certainly out of any kind of game he might want to play. “I mean, I’m all busted up, I’m not gonna be much good to you –”

His nostrils flared. “Stop it.”

“ – a broken leg, busted ribs –”

Stephen dropped to his knees in front of me. “I said stop it,” he said, seizing my hands. I felt his tremble in mine, more pronounced than usual. “I’m going to get you a coffee and a couple of Tylenol, because you talk the most ridiculous maudlin shit when you’re down.”

“But –”

He stood, keeping our hands linked, then immediately bent to kiss me. I groaned softly against his mouth. Even a simple kiss felt good.

“But nothing,” he said. “I love _you._ That means all of you, even your hissy fits and histrionics. That doesn’t mean I’m going to put up with them.”

This. This right here. This was one of the reasons I loved him so goddamned hard. 

“Sorry,” I croaked. “Guess I’m just feeling sorry for myself.”

“Well, you can feel sorry for yourself in my bed.”

That made me smile. “Your chat-up lines need work, Strange.”

“So help me God, you drive me crazy.” He bent to kiss me again. “Still trying to work out if that’s a good thing.”

“Of course it is.” I took a handful of his tunic and pulled him down, careful not to move too quickly so I didn’t jar my ribs. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

~~&~~

The Sanctum would always be a special place to me – _my_ Sanctum now, too, as well as his – because it was the first place we’d made love. I didn’t intend for it to be the last (I was racking up a hella big list of places where I wanted to fuck, if he was down for it) but this place… it was his, and he’d let me in. It had been a symbolic move that meant so much.

Getting out of the chair and into bed was a pain in the ass (and the leg, and the ribs, and every other single fucking part of me). But the mattress was soft and the blanket was warm. Stephen came in from the bathroom, wearing boxer-briefs and nothing else, his hair damp from the shower. I enjoyed the view as he climbed into bed beside me. He reached for me, hesitated, then let his hands drop.

“I want…” He shook his head. “Is there any part of you I can hold without hurting you?”

“Let’s find out.”

~~&~~

I woke up the next morning, sore as hell. Turned out there really hadn’t been any part of me he could hold without it hurting, but we’d been able to kiss just fine. And we’d spent… God, it felt like hours, just doing that. We fell asleep that way. No more than a couple of inches between us. 

That set the pattern for the next couple of weeks. It didn’t matter that we lived apart, that we worked in different time zones; he was always just a portal away.

“I talked with Arngeir today,” Stephen said one evening as we were getting ready for bed in the Compound. He was sitting on the closed toilet lid, long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. I was in front of the mirror, propped up on a crutch, cleaning my teeth.

“Uh huh?” I said, through a mouthful of toothpaste.

“He always thought his journey to Earth would be a one-way trip. After we travelled back in time, I told him I could take him back to Nirn, if that was what he wanted.”

“He needed time to think about that?” I spat the minty mess into the sink and rinsed my mouth under the faucet. 

“He’d come to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t be going home before he ever stepped through his own portal. That’s not a state of mind you come back from easily.”

I met his gaze in the mirror. I think we both understood Arngeir’s state of mind. When you’d reconciled yourself to a particular course of action, one that could change or even end your life – when you worked yourself up to accepting that – it was hard to accept that there were any other possibilities. Hard to get yourself out of that particular mind-set. 

“So he wants to go home now,” I said.

“Yeah.”

“Did he say when?” I’d miss the old guy. I’d spent time with him during my recovery, talking about his world and mine. Neither of us talked shop – no mention of anything Dovah. It wasn’t that I wanted to forget about what had happened; far from it. It was just that, for a while, there were other things we wanted to talk about.

“Tomorrow.”

“So soon?” I’d really come to like him. And I respected the hell out of him. To give up his own world, to give up any chance of going home – that took guts.

Stephen shrugged. “He’s ready.”

“Will it be hard for you to open a portal for him?” Maybe Arngeir could come visit sometimes…

“His world isn’t exactly next door to ours, Tony.”

“A simple ‘yes’ would have done.”

He snickered. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“Alright, show-off.” I rinsed my toothbrush then got back on the crutches, turning with difficulty to walk out of the bathroom. Stephen’s eyes tracked my movements. “How ‘bout you open a portal to the bed?”

“Can’t handle a few more steps?” he taunted lightly. 

I tapped his shin with the crutch. “Can’t handle your ego.”

His quiet laugh followed me into the bedroom.

~~&~~

We gathered in the courtyard at Kamar-Taj the next day. I’d taken to using the crutches whenever I could, frustrated with my lack of mobility in the chair, and I used them now. If we ended up standing for too much longer I was going to regret that decision.

“Sure you won’t stay, buddy?” I asked Arngeir.

“I would like to see High Hrothgar again,” he said in his deep, croaky voice. “Kamar-Taj is beautiful, but this world is not like mine, and I miss the high mountains more than I thought possible.”

I understood that. The mountain we’d visited in Nirn’s deep history – the place where we’d seen Gormlaith and the others bitch-slap Alduin into the future – had been his home for most of his life. It made sense for him to want to return.

“More than you’ll miss cable TV?” I teased. Arngeir’s beard twitched as he smiled.

“I came here to warn you of Alduin, to give you the weapons you needed to defeat him. My purpose here is fulfilled.”

“You could stay another week,” Stephen suggested. “You have a lifetime of magical knowledge to share.”

The smile turned into a chuckle. “You are the Sorcerer Supreme of your universe,” he replied. “There is little I know that you don’t, I’m sure.”

“On the subject of knowledge,” I said hesitantly. “This Dragonborn thing… the magic, the gene, whatever it is. It activated when Alduin first came here. Now he’s gone, will it… I don’t know, go dormant again?”

“Are you asking if you will lose your ability to Shout?” Arngeir asked.

“Well, yeah. And, you know, the whole…” I raised a single crutch and extended it to the side, miming a wing.

“Knowledge of a Shout is not something that can be lost.” Wise old eyes played over my face. “Nor is the ability to use them. These are gifts of Akatosh that you will keep. As to the… what are we calling it?”

I looked at Stephen. “Flameskin? Dragonskin?” We’d spent a lot of time talking about that explosion of energy at the end.

“Dragonskin,” Stephen suggested “Way sexier.”

I grinned. “Works for me.”

“I have never heard of a Dragonborn utilising such an ability,” Arngeir said. “But the Multiverse is a vast place, and Dragonborn are rare. Who’s to say this isn’t another gift of Akatosh that will stay with you?”

“I’m not sure I want to keep this one.”

“Whether or not you use it is, of course, your choice to make. I cannot advise you with regards to that.” His tone became thoughtful. “If it was something you used in extremis, when you felt death was imminent, it is possible you could return to that state.”

That was a possibility Stephen had suggested, and it scared the hell out of me. But I knew that, if that moment came again, I would utilise every resource I had so I could come home to him again. If that meant unleashing the white-gold energy form, then so be it.

I was pragmatic enough to realise that it would be a ‘when’ moment, not an ‘if’. 

Stephen closed his eyes, brow furrowed as he concentrated. His hands moved, steady as a rock now as he channelled magic. A portal opened a few feet away. Through it, I saw a wide, snow-covered plateau, and the dark, imposing shape of a fortress in the distance.

“Home,” Arngeir said, his voice wavering with longing. When he finally wrenched his eyes away, they were damp. “Dragonborn, it has been an honour to instruct you in the ways of the Thu’um.” 

“Honour’s all mine,” I said, struggling to keep the moisture out of my own eyes. “You’re a credit to the Greybeards. If it hadn’t been for you, I’d be in some dragon’s belly right now.” 

He held his hand out to shake. Propping the crutch under my other arm, trying to ignore the pain rippling up and down my leg, I reached out and shook his hand.

“Farewell, Dragonborn.”

“Come on, you can call me Tony…”

He smiled. “Tony. Live well.”

“Same to you.” I let his hand drop, recovering my crutch with relief. “Safe journey home, Arngeir.”

He shook Stephen’s hand, then walked back through the portal. When he was safely on the other side – his feet making tracks in the snow – he turned and waved to us.

With one last wave goodbye, Stephen closed the portal.

~~&~~

“What the hell is that?”

Stephen glared over my shoulder. I shifted a little on my stool. I wasn’t happy using a stool, but I couldn’t use the crutches and chop vegetables at the same time. This was the last evening we’d have the Compound to ourselves – Steve and Nat were due back tomorrow, Wanda and Petey were coming from a conference in the afternoon, Clint was bringing his kids for the evening meal… the place would be packed.

“Looks like a pepper to me,” I replied, putting the knife down. “I mean, I know the pieces are a little irregular, and God only knows how I got seeds all over the place – pretty sure I’d scooped ‘em all out – but still… it’s a pepper, man.”

I turned to see him pinch the bridge of his nose, a classic sign that his patience with me was about to run out. 

“It’s a massacre.” His eyes flashed. Great, now he was going to get all dramatic. Sheesh, it was just a badly-chopped vegetable, and it wasn’t even that badly chopped. “ _Straight_ lines, I said, and _little_ pieces. What’s this?” He picked up a vaguely triangular-shaped lump.

“It’s a pepper,” I said, flashing him a grin. See, always helpful, that was me.

“How the hell are you a scientist if you can’t even chop vegetables?” His strident tone vibrated in my ears, making me wince.

“Particle physics is way easier than cooking,” I said. “And I’d just like to remind you that I never said I could cook. In fact I seem to recall being totally straight up with the fact that I _can’t_ cook. Like, we had a conversation, there was back and forth –”

“It’s simple cooking!” His voice was almost a wail. “It’s not even rocket science!”

“Alright, Gordon Ramsay.” I’d learned early on that a calm, mild attitude infuriated him when he was like this – he wanted me to blow up at him. We’d row a little and somehow end up in bed. My still-healing ribs and leg meant we weren’t able to fully indulge the way we both wanted, but there were still plenty of things we could do. Plenty of ways to take that edge off. 

“Gordon Ramsay?” His tone became even sharper, rising at the end. Holy fuck, I’d got him good and riled. Pissing him off was an art form and man, I was a goddamned artist. I didn’t deliberately set out to annoy him. Well, not always. I genuinely couldn’t cook, but he seemed determined to teach me. Petey and I had a bet going as to when he’d finally blow a fuse and give up.

“That’s what I said. You’re one big prima donna in the kitchen.”

“ _I’m_ the prima donna?”

“Buddy, these peppers aren’t going to chop themselves –”

“ _Fuck_ the peppers!” He swept the chopping board off the work surface, scattering vegetables – chopped and otherwise – all over the floor. He grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me close for a bruising, punishing kiss, his tongue plundering my mouth, his other hand sliding under my sweater. His touch made me shiver. He felt that.

“How ‘bout you fuck me instead?” I suggested, more out of hope than any real expectation. When we did indulge, he treated me as if I was glass. Part of me appreciated his solicitousness. The other part of me just wanted to get pounded into the mattress.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” His voice was a low growl in my ear. “You’d like me to just bend you over the kitchen counter and _take_ you?”

I closed my fingers around the hand under my sweater, pushing it down so it rested on my crotch. My erection twitched.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

His kiss this time was slower, gentler. More thorough. It made me shudder.

“Let’s skip dinner,” he suggested.

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“Ravenous.” His lips pressed a line down the side of my face, and his trembling fingers worked at my zipper. I wanted to melt against him. “And I’m going to eat _you._ ”

“Love your dirty mouth,” I gasped, wrapping my arms around him. I buried my face against his shoulder, suddenly overwhelmed with a rush of emotions – the feeling that we shared so many things, understood so many parts of each other. The knowledge that we had a connection that was more than just physical. “And I love _you._ ”

It still felt so good to say that. To know it was welcomed. Reciprocated. _Understood._

A gentle tug on the hair at the nape of my neck made me raise my face. He stroked my cheek. The low fire in his grey eyes took my breath away.

“Love you too. Now come to bed.”

I grinned. Like I was going to argue with that?

THE END


End file.
